Face Your Fate
by Lunavere
Summary: Their lips met, and Christine's fate was sealed. She knew the Phantom wasn't ever going to let her go. What she didn't know was how their story would end: happily ever after or not. This story is an Alternative Ending where the Phantom doesn't recant on his word.
1. Saturday, April 1, 1871

**Author's Note: **I haven't dabbled in Het for a while, but I watched _The Phantom of the Opera_ the other day. I always felt terrible for the Phantom in the end, and this plot bunny emerged from its hole. Honestly, I don't believe Christine would have returned the the Phantom that night. She was too terrified of him to do so, so I created an alternative ending to the story (which I think is pretty realistic and keeps the characters in character for the most part). The prologue is shorter in length, but I do hope you enjoy the roller coaster about to start.

* * *

Their lips parted, their warm breath mingling. For Christine, nothing else existed in the world for but a moment. All she saw was the Angel of Music – the Phantom – before her. Without thinking, she leaned forward again and pressed her lips against his as a tear fell down her cheek. She had made her choice. Despite his deformity, his lips were soft and warm to the touch. He kissed her gently, almost making her forget how roughly he had treated her just a moment before. Very slowly, she shifted her hand from his neck to his face. The skin felt rough underneath her lithe fingers, and she registered that she was touching the very deformity he hated.

As soon as their lips parted the second time, though, reality came crashing down on her. Raoul still stood behind them, tied to the gate. She didn't dare look at him at first. She couldn't face the tears he was bound to have, knowing that they were to be separated. However, she was startled when she realized that the Phantom himself had begun to cry. At first, she was confused. Had she done something wrong? Was he upset? Or relieved? Maybe he had thought that she would have never chosen him. Possibly he was having a change of heart? Or maybe he realized that she would never truly love him? Not with the same passion as she did for Raoul. He managed to collect himself, though, as the distant echoes were heard.

"_Track down this murderer! He must be found!"_

He turned to face Raoul. "She's made her choice," he stated, much to Christine's horror. The Phantom had not changed his mind; he was still determined to have her.

"Christine, why?" Raoul cried out. "I would gladly have died for your freedom."

Smiling softly, Christine responded, "Just as gladly as I am to give up my freedom for your life."

As they had this exchange, the Phantom approached Raoul. Although his figure blocked exactly what he did, Christine was horrified to see Raoul slump a second later. Her heart wrenched in her chest, and she shook in despair. Turning around, the Phantom looked down at her, and his eyes softened. "He's only unconscious. When they come down, they will find him. He will be safe. Now come along," he ordered, taking her wrist and pulling her around. Christine staggered after him, glancing back at Raoul for one last time. If everything went as the Phantom planned then this would be the last time she ever saw him. Quickly, the Phantom picked up a candlestick, ignoring as the candle fell off and to the ground. He quickly led her over to a mirror covered by a tapestry. After removing the tapestry from in front of the mirror, the Phantom looked back at Christine and said, "Look away." She obeyed his command but jumped when she heard a crash against the glass. A second crash sounded out before she heard the mirror shatter.

A moment later, the Phantom pulled on her hand. Instinctively, Christine looked in front of her to find a pitch black pathway. As she entered, the curtains fell behind her, swallowing both of them in darkness. Fear set in as Christine realized she couldn't see anything in front of her, and she began to breathe heavily. If she hadn't had the Phantom's hand in her own, she would have retreated to the light. He led her some distance into the pathway, never faltering despite Christine's uneven and staggering footsteps behind him. Suddenly, he stopped, causing Christine to collide into him. She whispered her apology as his hand slipped away from hers. Sounds of scuffling echoed in the otherwise silent hall. Then Christine heard something that distinctively sounded like the hinges on an old door. She flinched when a hand suddenly grabbed her own, and she was led in a new direction.

They stopped once more, and the Phantom murmured, "Stay here. I will be right back." Christine sensed his hesitance to go, but they both knew she wasn't going anywhere. After all, Raoul was still out there and could be killed on a moment's notice. Besides that, she still couldn't see anything and would probably lose herself in the basement of the Opera Populaire. Although blinded by darkness, Christine could hear his footsteps getting further away. She stood in silence for a while, unsure if she should sit and wait or just keep standing.

By now, the shock of everything that had happened that night was beginning to fade, and she felt sick as reality settled as a cold block in her stomach. She was his now – not Raoul's as she had hoped. Grief stabbed her heart, and she felt her knees buckle underneath her. Sobs wracked her body and tears poured down her cheeks. Holding herself, Christine released all her anger and sadness in a violent scream that echoed down the hallway. She barely noticed the sound of heavy footsteps rushing down the hallway, getting louder with every step.

"Christine!" came a breathless voice.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Christine wiped away her tears and looked up to see the Phantom before her, this time with his mask on. He held a candelabra in his left hand with all five candles flickering and glowing. His wig was disheveled, and his breathing was labored as he looked down at her. Shivering, Christine forced herself to sit up. The cold was beginning to seep into her skin, and she felt goose bumps crawl across her flesh. The Phantom took three steps towards her before setting the candelabra down on the ground. In a second, he whipped off his cape and gently set it on her shivery body. It was that moment she realized her teeth had begun to chatter. Christine murmured her thanks, and the Phantom briefly nodded before turning and closing the door behind them, which blended into the walls perfectly.

"We will have to stay here until morning," he informed her, picking up the candelabra. He slowly approached her before sitting down next to her. Almost subconsciously, Christine leaned slightly closer to him. He gently set the candelabra on the ground next to him and shifted back a bit in order to rest his back against the wall behind them. "Try to get some sleep. You've been through much tonight, and we will have plenty to do tomorrow once these pests leave. For now, though, you must sleep, my angel."

Despite herself, Christine felt her lids become heavy. She pulled the cloak tighter around her body and curled up on the floor. At first, her pride had gotten the better of her. She didn't touch the Phantom in any way in order to assert her independence and hatred for what he had done to her. However, the Phantom said nothing. Instead, he hummed a song quietly – a melody that reflected only suffering, desperation, and loneliness. She felt herself connect to the song he was humming, and she felt herself relax.

Just as she had begun to drift, though, she heard someone shout out, "He must have gone through here!"

Gasping, Christine sat up straight as she realized that the guards were so close. If they were down there then that meant Raoul was safe. And if Raoul was safe then the Phantom had just lost his leverage over her. She might be able to have her happy ending with Raoul after all, even though that goes against her promise to the Phantom. However, she was too proud to go back on her word. She was an honorable woman, after all, and her father would scorn her if she did so. So all they had to do was notice something wasn't quite right with the wall next to them. Suddenly, a gloved hand covered her mouth, and a strong arm pulled her back into a broad chest. "Stay silent!" the Phantom hissed angrily, telling her he as not to be trifled with. Christine felt surprised as she realized that the Phantom didn't trust her.

Footsteps grew louder until the officers were just outside their hidden alcove. Suddenly they stopped, and Christine felt as though her heart had stopped as well. She silently prayed for them to find her. "He could have taken either path. We'll split up and start the manhunt," one of the officers declared. With that, Christine felt her hope diminish. She fell limp against the Phantom, whom kept his hand on her mouth until the officers' footsteps could no longer be heard. He then released her, softly petted her hair, and resumed humming his song as if nothing had transpired. Instead of moving back to where she was before, Christine rested her head on his lap, finding it a great deal more comfortable than the cold floor had been before. Completely exhausted emotionally, Christine let herself go and seeped into the comfort of sleep.


	2. Sunday, April 2, 1871

**Author's Note**: Thanks so much **PhantomFan01** and **MeganGrace** for the reviews. I know that _The Phantom of the Opera_ is not in its glory years, so any and all reviews are most definitely appreciated, especially after how hard I worked on this series. Enjoy.

* * *

Very slowly, Christine felt herself lift from the fog of sleep. She was slightly sore from sleeping on the stone floor, and the coldness had definitely seeped into her bones despite the cloak. She rose to find that the Phantom had disappeared from the room. Taking the candelabra next to her, Christine noted that the candles were on their final flickers before the wick was completely burnt out. She rose to her feet and realized that they had been freed from her painful heels; the Phantom probably had removed her shoes after she fell asleep. The wall that served as a door was partially opened. Stepping into the hallway, Christine noticed a distant glow at the end of the hall. The warm yellow glow told her that it was an artificial light. Glancing behind her, Christine hesitated before heading towards the light. Her feet made small pattering noises against the floor, but she was next to silent.

As she neared the entrance, she heard two voices. One was definitely the Phantom's voice; Christine could never mistake his deep baritone. After another moment, she identified the second voice as Madame Giry. From tone alone, she could tell they were having a disagreement. As she neared, she was able to make out a few words.

"… too far this time…" Madame Giry was explaining.

The Phantom responded angrily, "She made her choice…"

"… choice did you give her?" Madame Giry retorted.

Just as Christine neared the entrance, she heard the Phantom say, "You have been the closest thing to a mother for me, and I care for you deeply. However, don't try my patience."

In order to keep the conversation from escalating any further, Christine stepped through the entrance and into the room. The boat was still on the lake from the night before, and Christine looked up to see a bit of rope still hanging on the gate. Her throat tightened, and she turned away from the lake to look at the Phantom and Madame Giry. Quickly, Madame Giry rushed over to her and embraced her.

"Oh, Christine!" she exclaimed in clear relief. Quickly and rather roughly, she forced Christine away from her in order to give her a good look up and down. "How are you feeling? You look absolutely miserable. Come with me, my dear. You need to get out of that wet dress before you catch the plague."

Nodding, Christine followed Madame Giry, not only looking at the Phantom as she passed. Once again, though, he said nothing in response to her passive aggression. Madame Giry led Christine into the bedroom that was visibly blocked by the main room. Laying on the bed was a dark ivy green dress. Madame Giry motioned for Christine to turn around. As soon as she did, the older woman began untying the laces in the corset.

"Now that we have a moment of privacy, how are you doing?" Madame Giry murmured as she harshly tugged at one of the strings.

Christine replied, "I presume very well… after I consider everything I've experienced. How is Raoul?"

"The _vicomte_ is in good health," the Madame informed her. "You, however, look a bit worse for wear. He's gone too far this time, Christine. I love him like a son, but I cannot allow him to imprison you in such a way. Just say the word, and I'll help the _vicomte_ find you once more."

Smiling softly as she heard this, Christine felt her heart give one last hopeful jump. "I thank you very much, Madame, but I'm afraid that's unnecessary. I knew what my decision would lead to, and I accepted it. Perhaps not wholeheartedly, but I accepted it. He kept up his side of the deal, so I must keep mine. I cannot have it said that Christine Daaé recanted on her word after he kept his. I must keep my honor, no matter how little of it is left."

"You have more honor left than you realize, my girl," Madame Giry whispered as the dress dropped to the ground. Quickly, Christine slipped into the new, dry dress, and Madame Giry began lacing her up. "And you will not find a truer companion than he – that much I assure you. However, should you ever come to the moment when you believe that you cannot go further then write me a letter. If anyone can find where you are, it will be me, and I will make sure that the _vicomte_ hears of your situation."

Christine replied, "I thank you."

"Think nothing of it, my dear. And if you must escape from this place, turn left at the fork and head straight no matter how many curves and side passages there are," the Madame told her as she finished with the final tug. Tying it off, Madame Giry took a step back and admired her work. "How does it feel?"

Moving about in it for a second, Christine nodded in approval. "It's perfect," she replied.

"He sent me out this morning to fetch you a new dress. To be honest, I'm surprised he let you stay so wet for so long," Madame Giry noted.

Christine replied, "I doubt he had the time last night. However, he did give me his cloak to sleep with, so I wasn't frozen solid when I awoke."

"Thank God for small favors," Madame Giry murmured, crossing herself. "Now come. If we stay in here any longer, he might become suspicious."

Christine stepped out of the room with Madame Giry on her heels. For the first time, she was able to look around the room to find it almost stripped bare. Most of the candelabras had been taken since they were made of gold. The tapestries had been torn down, and the stations where the Phantom had kept his dioramas and designs had been turned over and ruined. Most of the dioramas looked as to have been crushed by feet while his stationary was missing most of its normal commodities. The Phantom was shifting silently from corner to corner, all the while shaking his head and murmuring to himself under his breath.

"They took anything that wasn't attached to the ground," the Phantom exclaimed suddenly, clearly exasperated by the entire ordeal. "May we only be thankful that I kept my money at the bank instead of in here, or the vultures would have taken every last coin that I earned!"

Madame Giry cleared her throat before asking, "What do you plan to do now?"

The Phantom looked over at her and then Christine. "I plan to do a lot of things, but I can only tell you of a few. I need you to pay for a carriage to come to _Rue de la Victoire_ at midnight in one week's time. If we leave any time sooner, it'll be too suspicious. I'm sure that the city's watch are still patrolling the streets. Then I need you to bring us provisions for the rest of our stay here as well as a couple of suitcases and some dresses for Christine to wear. After that, make sure that you aren't being followed and return to me."

Nodding slightly, Madame Giry picked up her dress and stepped over the glass still outside the broken mirror. "I will see to it that your requests are completed," she said before going to leave.

"And please make haste," the Phantom added.

Madame Giry gave another nod of acknowledgement before stepping into the hallway. As soon as she disappeared from sight, the Phantom turned to look at Christine, whom averted her eyes. "You fear me," he stated calmly.

"I have seen what you are capable of," Christine replied coldly, not denying his statement.

Turning away from her, the Phantom shook his head. "I could never bring myself to hurt you, Christine," he told her.

"Physically, perhaps not. Emotionally, though, you've already proven yourself wrong," she retorted.

"And I wish more than anything that I hadn't been forced to resort to such measures," he whispered, sounding incredibly hurt. Something stirred inside Christine as she heard his tone. She couldn't help but feel pity for this man who felt cornered and yet she loathed him all the same. "But, Christine, I need you. Only you could possibly come to love me as a man instead of a monster."

"I might have agreed to be physically with you, but that does not mean you have my heart," Christine declared.

The Phantom's features darkened as she said this. "Very well," he stated, his normally bright blue eyes narrowing dangerously. Christine thought he would have another outburst, but he merely turned around and began picking up the wax candles from the floor.

An awkward silence descended between the two of them. Shifting uneasily, Christine didn't know what to do with herself. She was trapped down here with a man she barely knew but was supposed to marry. To top it off, they were unable to hold a conversation that lasted longer than a few moments. Looking around the room, Christine felt like she was beginning to suffocate. She had to do something – say something. No longer able to stand the silence, she blurted out, "What's your name?"

Clearly surprised, the Phantom looked at her with wide eyes. "Erik," he said after a moment's hesitation.

"Erik -?" she pressed, curious as to what his surname was.

Christine noticed him purse his lips as he heard her question, and she knew she had touched a sensitive subject. "I don't have a true surname for my father would not have me as his son. Everyone just called me Erik de Rouen," he informed her.

"You were born in Rouen then?" Christine clarified, now somewhat curious about Erik's past. She knew so little about him, and yet it seemed that he knew much about her.

Shaking his head slightly, Erik clarified, "I was born just outside Rouen. My mother kept to herself, especially after she had me. As I said before, my father wanted nothing to do with me."

"What did your father do?" Christine quietly asked, unsure if she was treading on thin ice.

Erik merely answered, "He was a mason."

"Then could it possibly be that your true surname is Maçon?" Christine inquired. If she was going to be forced to marry this man, the least she should know was what her own last name was going to be.

"No," he snapped sharply, causing her to flinch. He took in a deep breath for a moment to calm down before explaining, "My father didn't accept me as his son; therefore, I have no right taking his last name as my own. De Rouen suits me just fine and will serve as a suitable surname when we are married."

Christine de Rouen. It hadn't the appeal as Christine de Chagny had, but she could live with it. If there was one thing that was certain, it was that she would eventually become Madame de Rouen. Softly, a voice penetrated her thoughts, and she quickly came to realize that Erik was speaking to her. "I'm sorry?" she said, prompting him to repeat himself.

"I asked if you were hungry," Erik responded.

As she thought of food, Christine realized just how famished she was. "Yes, I am," she told him, flushing a bit from embarrassment.

"Madame Giry brought us some baguettes with marmalade. Would you like one of those?" he inquired.

Smiling, Christine replied, "That would be perfect."

Erik ducked into a separate room before coming out with a brown paper bag. He handed it to Christine before pulling over a chair for her to sit on as she ate. Nodding her thanks, Christine quickly opened the bag and tore off a piece of the bread. After dipping it into the marmalade, she popped it in her mouth and quickly swallowed. Baguettes weren't food for the royalty, but they would certainly fill her up and were a delicacy in their own right. As Christine ate, the Phantom sat at his piano, which remained untouched, and began to play Mozart. Christine closed her eyes and hummed along as she ate. Somehow, they had been able to become more comfortable with each other in the last couple of minutes than ever before. Christine no longer felt like she was suffocating every moment she wasn't speaking. Time passed by without a pause of silence. Erik easily switched from song to song – from Mozart to Chopin to Beethoven – and continued playing long after Christine was done eating. Enjoying the music, Christine remained in her chair, watching carefully as his fingers glides easily across the piano. He never faltered, never fumbled, and never once missed a beat or a note.

Suddenly, the all the candles lit in the room flickered. Erik immediately stopped playing and sat rigid in his chair. Sensing something was wrong, Christine sat up straight as well and listened carefully for any noise. Erik quietly rose to his feet, before heading towards a mirror. He reached behind it and pulled out a lasso, much to Christine's horror. She quickly and violently rose from her chair, forcing it to go crashing into the lake with a large _splash_. Holding her gaze with the intensity of his eyes, Erik raised one finger to his mouth in order to signal her to be silent. Even if she wanted to, she doubt she would have been able to give make a peep. The sound of footsteps became audible, and Christine realized someone was coming back to them. She hoped desperately that it was Madame Giry, for she feared for the fate of anyone else who would stumble upon them. Holding two bags, Madame Giry emerged from the entrance to find two rigid figures staring at her. She glanced between the two of them before clucking her tongue disapprovingly at Erik.

"Always prepared, I see," she noted, motioning towards the lasso.

Erik unceremoniously dropped it behind the mirror once again. "In this day and age, one can never know when he will need a weapon by his side. I was without my sword, so I chose the next best thing. I take it you accomplished everything?"

"Yes, I finished the errands you requested of me, but it will take a while before I can get all of Christine's dresses. I've decided that it would be best if I came every morning with a new dress. That way, she can change, and I won't look so suspicious walking down the streets," Madame Giry suggested.

"As sharp as ever," Erik stated approvingly. "I see nothing wrong with such an arrangement. And for the provisions?"

Handing him the bags, she explained, "This should make you for today and tomorrow. Of course, I will bring you more when the day after tomorrow when I bring Christine's dress."

"Thank you," Erik murmured, picking up the bags and setting them on one of the few tables remaining.

After a moment of silence, Christine deemed it finally proper to ask, "What is the state of the opera house?"

"The opera house has been reduced mostly to rubble and ashes. Very little of the foundation remains, and only the catacombs survived completely untouched. Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin are ruined and will most likely be driven into poverty by the loss of the Opera Populaire. And even if they do manage to rebuild it, the stigma will remain of the Opera Ghost that plagues the building and its works," Madame Giry informed her. "In essence, the Opera Populaire has come to a close. We were lucky enough to work here during its golden years, though. May it remain just as regal as it was in the beginning."

Christine felt a small pang of loss in her heart. The Opera Populaire had been her home since childhood, and now it was completely destroyed. In the matter of hours, her entire world had been changed. She had been ripped from the loving, protective arms of her lover and forever removed from her second home. Trembling slightly, Christine felt her eyes become hot with tears. "That's so unfortunate," she managed to say. Her throat seemed to be getting tighter with every word.

"You must not think like that, my dear," Madame Giry said in a soft voice. "Nothing lasts forever. Everyone knew the Opera Populaire would eventually turn into a story for the generations. And from great tragedies in life come great fortunes. Think about it, dear. Had your father not died, you would have never come to train at the Opera Populaire. You would have never had the years of experience you gained. So hold your head high, my girl."

Christine forced a smile to her face, but she felt quite faint all over again. "I shall, but first I must rest," she said.

Madame Giry smiled back at her. "Very well. Sweet dreams," she murmured.

"Use the bed," Erik ordered softly. "You will get a much better sleep on it than you did last night on the floor. I will stay alert for any danger."

Nodding, Christine headed straight for the bed. She dropped on it in an unladylike fashion, no longer caring if anyone saw her in such a state. Curling up under the covers, Christine closed her eyes and felt herself drift off once more.


	3. Tuesday, April 4, 1871

**Author's Note:** Thank you, **Heaven Sparkles**, for reviewing the last chapter. As I said before, any reviews are helpful because they let me know that people are, in fact, reading and enjoying this story and that I didn't just make it for nothing. Her review prompted me to post the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

Christine tossed in the bed once more as she tried to get comfortable. For the entire day, she was unable to do anything. She was caged in this dark cavern without a single breath of fresh air inside. Turning over again, she felt restless; she had been trying for hours to fall asleep without any success. Madame Giry had come today, as planned, and brought Christine her dress; however, she was sent away much quicker than the previous day. According to the Madame, she had errands to run today and was unable to stay. Christine was trapped with Erik for the rest of the day. For almost the entire time, they remained silent. Even after the small break in the ice yesterday, Christine didn't know where to begin when it came to him. She didn't understand him at all and didn't know how to begin to. So he sat and worked on different things, and Christine didn't ask for an explanation of what he was doing. Now she was lying in the bed as he slept on the floor. Much to her surprise and delight, Erik did not push for them to be intimate since the point of no return.

Unable to stand it any longer, Christine rose silently from the bed. She had to get out of this cage, even if it was only for a few minutes. Erik remained curled on the floor next to the bed as she tip-toed across the room and picked up a pair of shoes. Remembering what Madame Giry told her, Christine carefully stepped around the shattered glass before floating down the hallway noiselessly. Because the tunnels were still pitch black, she placed her hand on the left wall and began walking slowly through the hallway. At the fork, she took her left and continued following the main passageway. Abruptly, a huge blast of cold air told Christine that she was getting close to the street. She took in a large breath of fresh air for the first time in days and felt a small sense of freedom. Wrapping her arms tighter around her, Christine found a barred gate. She slipped the heels on her already frozen feet and forced open the gate. Stepping out onto the icy sidewalk, Christine slipped slightly before catching herself.

As if on cue, the bell tower began to chime. Once. Twice. And then silence. Christine blinked in surprise. She normally couldn't stay awake past eleven. Hugging herself a bit harder, Christine shivered as the cold nipped at her exposed skin. Luckily, her dress was long-sleeved and made for the winter. After checking the street, Christine decided it was safe for her to walk without being seen by someone who knew her or by any police officers. She headed towards the front of the Opera Populaire in order to see the extent of the damage. As she made it to what was normally the entrance of the opera house, she felt her heart break a bit. The foyer was still standing in most of its glory. Christine began walking around the opera house in order to examine the rest of the damage. As she made it to the side, she heard something crunch underneath her feet. She looked down to find glass was scattered across the streets, as if the windows had exploded during the fire. The stone was scorched here and there. As she made it back to where the stage used to be, she wad distraught to find the stage area no longer existed at all. Instead, it was merely a pile of rubble and ash.

Christine rubbed her arms with her hands to warm them up a bit as she turned away from the remains of the opera house. Although Madame Giry had warned her, she had to see it or herself to know that the Opera Populaire would never reopen. Christine frowned and started towards the alleyway. At this moment, she needed to get away from the Opera Populaire. Wandering through the streets, Christine made sure that no one was around to spot her. After all, her freedom was only temporary, and she wanted to enjoy every moment away from the opera house. She let her mind wander after a while, though, since she had finally become used to the silence and desertion of the roads. As she was walking, she took a long trip down memory lane. She recalled the few memories she still had of her mother and of her father. She thought a bit about Raoul before pushing those memories back. It was still too soon.

Slowly, though, a strange suspicion seeped into Christine's consciousness, and she realized that she heard footsteps behind her. Glancing back, Christine noticed two shadows not too far behind her. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, and she quickly turned down an alley. Sure enough, the two figures followed her. Christine picked up her pace before turning down another alley. Glancing behind her, she rounded another corner before slamming straight into a broad chest. She gasped in fear and jumped back only to see Erik in front of her.

"Oh, thank God," she said, grasping onto his arms as if they were a lifeline. "Two men are following me."

Just after Christine said that, the two men barreled around the corner. In one fell swoop, Erik thrust Christine behind him and drew his sword with his other arm. The two men skidded to a halt and swayed in place. Peeking out from behind Erik, Christine realized that these two men were very inebriated, hardly able to stand straight. Both of them looked at Erik's sword for a long moment before turning tail and retreating back to the shadows. As soon as their footsteps had faded, Erik sheathed his sword and turned to face her. Christine, who was expecting for a thorough verbal lashing, was surprised when all he asked was, "Are you hurt?"

"No," she responded as he took off his cloak and wrapped it around her. His warmth still clung to it, and she pulled it tighter around her body. "You managed to get to me before they could do anything." As soon as she said this, though, she felt a twinge of surprise. "How did you find me? You were sleeping so soundly when I got up, and I tried to be as silent as possible."

"We can discuss this as we walk," Erik replied, extending his arm in an escorting manner. After a moment's hesitation, Christine accepted it, and the two began walking back. "I wasn't asleep. You were struggling so much – tossing and turning – that I was too nervous to fall asleep. I find myself unable to sleep until you are. And then, much to my horror, you got up and silently left. I thought you were going to try to flee, so I followed you out. I kept my distance, though, until I noticed those intoxicated morons trailing after you."

"But I didn't hear you at all," Christine murmured in shock.

Erik smiled and simply said, "My dear, haven't you heard? I am the Opera Ghost. I don't make noise when I walk." A few moments of silence passed between them before Erik inquired, "Why did you come out here? You had ample time to try to escape, but you never strayed more than a few blocks from the opera house."

"I needed the fresh air," Christine admitted. "I was restless because I hadn't been able to go anywhere the last couple of days. That's why I couldn't rest properly. I thought that if I walked around a bit, though, that I would be able to wear myself out. Never once did I think that I would be attacked."

Erik's arm tensed as she said this. "I can imagine that you wouldn't, seeing as how you were raised in the opera house. However, you should never go out into the streets alone at night. There are always predators waiting for unsuspecting prey," he informed her. "If you feel the need to get out and stretch your legs tomorrow, please allow me to escort you. As long as you're with me, no one will harm you. I will make sure of it."

"I thank you," Christine replied earnestly. She had felt secure the moment she had run into Erik, which astounded her. Not only that, but he was clearly more than willing to give up his life in order to ensure her safety. "And I apologize for making you worry earlier, but I never once thought about running."

Nodding, Erik said, "I believe you. After all, you are a woman of honor."

"I got that from Daddy Daaé," Christine confessed, flushing a bit as she used her father's pet name. "He was an honest man who did honest work for honest money. Were I anything less, he would have scolded me."

Erik said, "Such a characteristic is only natural for a man of such talent. And for a woman with such skill as well."

"Both of us know that I wasn't born with this ability," Christine stated matter-of-factly.

Chuckling, Erik responded, "No, no you were not. But I am sure that your father wasn't born playing the violin either. Over years of practice and training, both you and your father gained the skill to excel in your respective musical departments. You earned the right to be _Prima Donna_, no matter what those idiot managers thought. Unlike Carlotta, you had real talent."

"I often wondered what you saw in me. I sounded so awful as a child," she told him, laughing in embarrassment.

After a moment's pause, Erik explained to her, "I could hear the potential in your voice. You had the soul to sing but not the ability. However, ability could be taught – soul could not. I believe that _signora_ Carlotta proved as much to the world." A small smile tugged as Christine's mouth as Erik said this. Just then, the Opera Populaire came into view, and Christine was nearly overcome with fatigue the moment she saw it. It was almost as if her body had decided that it was close enough to a bed to fall asleep. Seeing her falter, Erik quickly wrapped one arm around her to steady her. "Are you alright?"

"Quite fine. I'm just tired," Christine responded, pulling away from him very slowly. She was moved by his compassion, but she knew she would be able to make it to the bed on her own. Erik didn't object. Instead, he pushed open the gate to allow them back into the catacombs. The pitch blackness was unnerving to her still, but Erik's hand grasping her own helped her manage her way back through the tunnels without being too afraid. They got to the main door without any problems. As soon as they walked into the lighted room, Erik let go of Christine's hand and pulled away. Christine went to say something but bit her tongue on the matter. He was trying to be respectful of her wishes, both said and implied. She headed over to the bed and sat down on it. Getting comfortable, she said, "When I was little, my father used to tell me all sorts of fairytales when I couldn't sleep at night. I don't remember most of them anymore, but there are a few that I still recall. Would you like to hear one?"

Erik said, "I wouldn't mind that at all." He pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed.

Christine smiled and began her tale. Because of the sensitivity of the subject, she avoided her favorite fairytale, which was about the Angel of Music, and instead focused on one that had always been humorous to her as a child. "Once upon a time, there were three Billy goats who were all named Gruff. They were heading up the hillside to reach a green pasture where they could eat. On their way there, they came across a bridge that crossed over a stream. Under this bridge lived a great ugly troll with eyes as big as saucers and a nose as long as a poker! The first of the Billy Goat Gruffs to cross the bridge was the youngest, his hooves clacking and clopping across the bridge.

'Who is that crossing my bridge?' roared the troll.

'It is only I, the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff,' called back the Billy goat in a small voice. 'I am going up to the pasture to eat until I cannot eat anymore!'

'Now I am coming to gobble you up!' said the troll.

But the youngest Billy Goat Gruff was smarter than the troll. He replied, 'Oh, no! Pray, don't take me. I am too little. Wait a bit till the second Billy Goat Gruff comes. He's much bigger.'

'Very well then. Be off with you,' said the troll. A little while after, the second Billy Goat Gruff crossed the bridge, clopping and clacking across the bridge. Once again, the troll roared, 'Who is that tripping over my bridge?'

'It is the second Billy Goat Gruff, and I am going up to the pasture to eat until I cannot eat anymore,' said the second Billy Goat Gruff, whose voice wasn't so small.

'Now I am coming to gobble you up!" declared the troll.

But the second Billy Goat Gruff was smarter than the troll. 'Don't take me,' he said. 'Wait until the big Billy Goat Gruff comes. He's much bigger.'

'Very well then. Be off with you,' said the troll. And soon after came the big Billy Goat Gruff, clopping and clacking across the bridge. 'Who is that tramping over my bridge?'

'It is I, the big Billy Goat Gruff,' declared the Billy goat, who had an ugly hoarse voice.

The troll roared, 'Now I am coming to gobble you up!' However, when the troll emerged, he found a Billy goat that was larger than the troll himself was. The Billy goat lowered its head and charged at the troll, knocking it off the bridge and into the stream below. The troll was swept away, and the Billy goats lived happily ever after."

Christine looked over at Erik to find him staring at her intensely. Shaking his head slightly, he asked, "You love fairytales, do you not?"

"I do," she responded, nodding slightly. "No matter how much the character goes through, there's always a happy ending to be had. That is, as long as you stay away from the Grimm fairytales. I'd be surprised if those brothers knew what a happy ending was."

Erik's lips tightened a bit. "Well, it's a happy ending for one side… but what about the other? What about the troll? What of his side of the story? What if he hadn't been able to eat in a while? He allowed the first two Billy goats to pass, but he had to eat one of them. And he was killed for trying to fulfill one of his basic necessities," he explained, slowly getting worked up.

Frowning, Christine responded, "And I take it that you don't care for fairytales."

"There is always two sides to the story," Erik told her. "It depends on which side you look at as to your opinion of the outcome. For some people, there is a happily ever after. For others, though, they are left alone and without love."

Christine felt her eyes widened as she realized exactly what Erik was talking about. Eyes softening, she reached out gently and took his hand into her own. "I chose you, Erik," she murmured quietly.

Erik pulled back, forcing Christine to release his hand. "No," he replied, looking up at her with pained eyes. "You chose Raoul. I have you two choices: yourself or Raoul… and you chose him." He rose to his feet and turned his back to Christine. "Go to sleep, my dear. I will see you in the morning."

Without another word, Erik slipped out of the room and disappeared around the corner. Christine debated on whether or not she should pursue him. She decided against it, knowing he was in one of his moods. If she followed him, she might say something that would invoke his anger. Instead, she laid back down and closed her eyes. Although she wasn't quite settled, Christine managed to finally fall asleep.


	4. Wednesday, April 5, 1871

**Author's Note: **Thank you **Semesee** for the lovely review. As always, I hope you'll take the time to review this chapter. And I hope you enjoy!

* * *

"My dear, you must rise," came a warm feminine voice. It managed to break through Christine's sleep and rouse her. Blinking, she squinted as a bright light shone in her eyes. Her eyes adjusted to the light for her to find Madame Giry hovering about her.

"Is it morning already?" she inquired, sitting up in the bed. She looked at the dress that rested on the table to find it was completely black as well with a veil. Looking at Madame Giry, Christine realized that Madame Giry was also in all black. Her heart stopped in her chest, and she quickly leapt from the bed. "Did something happen?" she asked, fearing the worst.

Madame Giry quickly replied, "Oh, my sweet girl, no. If you are to go into the streets today, though, we have to hide who you are. The _Vicomte_ de Chagny has spared no expense in trying to find you. Your photograph has been on the front page of the paper since your – how should we call this – ah… disappearance. He spared no expense in trying to find you, although he now suspects that the Opera Ghost has taken you and fled the country."

"Speaking of him, where is he?" Christine asked, glancing around. Erik had hardly left her side in the last couple of days, so she couldn't imagine why he would now, even if Madame Giry was there.

Madame Giry responded, "It's bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the wedding on the wedding day." Christine's eyes widened as she heard this. She knew that they would marry, but she hadn't realized that it would be so soon. "Or, at least, that is what I told him. He knows next to nothing about marrying, so he believed me. Now, my dear, if you want out, you have to leave now. He isn't expecting you for a while. By then, you can make it to the de Chagny estate and be under Raoul's protection."

"I couldn't," Christine responded earnestly. "Even if I made it to the estate and was with Raoul, do you think that would be the end of this? You don't believe that the Phantom wouldn't exact his revenge? I don't want to live my life running from a ghost. And that's assuming I could live with myself recanting my spoken word and going back on my family's honor."

Pressing her lips together, Madame Giry nodded her head. "If that is your wish, my dear, I support you completely," she replied. "Now let's get you into this. Once we get to the church, we can change you into your wedding dress."

Christine turned around and felt a hard tug on her corset. After a couple more tugs, it slipped easily off her body and pooled on the ground around her feet. Christine stepped away from the dress and shivered in the cold. Slipping into the black dress, Christine held out her arms as Madam Giry began to lace her up. A veil was dropped on her head and covered her entire head. It also obscured most of her vision. Madam Giry pulled the front of the veil back, allowing her to see. "Once we make it to the streets, my dear, you'll have to cover your face. I'll lead you through the streets, though." Christine nodded her head and followed Madame Giry through the tunnel system. As they reached the gate, Madame Giry held up her hand. "Since the explosion, not too many people walk around the opera house. Even so, we have to be cautious entering or leaving the place. If anyone sees us, it could spark an investigation."

"I understand," Christine murmured.

Madame Giry ordered, "Cover your face, my dear. There will be an opportunity to get out soon. We'll be stepping out in a moment."

Just as Christine covered her face, Madame Giry opened the gate and quickly stepped out. Christine stepped out right behind her, and they closed the gate without anyone seeing. Quickly, Madame Giry wrapped her arm around Christine's, and the two began walking down the street. Madame Giry kept a brisk walk, which made Christine stumble a couple of times due to her obscured vision. Just as the church's bell tower came into view, both heard the Madame's name being called out. Madame Giry didn't even hesitate until they heard it a second time. Glancing back, Madame Giry let out an impatient sigh.

"Madame Giry!" called the voice a third time.

Turning, Christine felt her breath hitch as a police officer walked towards the duo. Christine's arm tensed despite herself. "Monsieur," Madame Giry greeted. "As you can see, we are busy at the moment. I will be more than willing to answer your questions at some other time."

"Why don't you allow me to escort you and your friend to the church?" the officer offered. "I can ask you the few questions I have along the way."

Madame Giry pressed her lips together in displeasure. If you must," she finally answered. "But once we make it to the church, you must leave, Monsieur. It's a matter of respect."

"Of course," the officer replied, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

Christine and Madame Giry turned again, and the officer fell in step next to the Madame. "I just have to check up on a few details," the officer told her. "The night of the disappearance, you didn't head down with the officers on the manhunt. Why is that?"

"I already told you. Everything was very chaotic once the chandelier fell onto the audience. I wanted to get out as soon as possible," she explained.

The officer frowned and replied, "That's not what the _Vicomte _de Chagny told us. He said that you helped him find the catacombs where this 'Opera Ghost' took Miss Christine Daaé." He paused a moment in order to let these words sink in. "So I will ask you the same question I asked you the first time: how well did you know this rumored Opera Ghost?"

"Monsieur, my answer does not change from what I said before. I knew nothing more about the Phantom of the Opera than anyone else in the Opera Populaire," Madame Giry told him.

Scoffing, the officer responded, "You expect me to believe that after everything the _vicomte_ told me about you?"

Madame Giry stopped in her tracks and faced the officer. "What I knew about the Phantom before the disappearance of Christine Daaé only pertained to the catacombs of the Opera Populaire. I did not know the Phantom personally. Only Miss Daaé knew him intimately by any sense of the word. So I therefore do not know where he could have gone to if he had fled the city. Now, if you don't mind, we must be going without any further delay."

The officer was clearly displeased by Madame Giry's reaction to his question. "My apologies, Madame Giry," he replied, nodding his head once. "I will return at a more opportune time for you." He turned towards Christine and bowed his head towards her. "I'm sorry for your loss, madam."

Nodding her head, Christine made sure not to make any force of oral response. The officer turned away from them and headed down the street. Meanwhile, Madame Giry roughly grabbed Christine's arm and dragged her into the church. As soon as the door closed behind them, Christine lifted her veil in order to see properly. Just inside and sitting on a pew, Meg was waiting impatiently. As soon as she heard them, she shot up, rushed over, and embraced her friend. Christine hugged her back, relieved to see Meg there. After a long moment, Meg pulled back and said, "We simply must talk about what has happened the last couple of days. But first, we must get you ready immediately!" Quickly, Meg grabbed Christine's hand and dragged her away. Christine barely had a moment to glance back at Madame Giry before they were walking into a side room. "The entire church is rented out for our personal use, so we were able to store your wedding dress here," Meg explained, nonchalantly motioning to the room.

However, only one aspect of the room caught Christine's eye: the dress that hung on the wall before her. It wasn't the same dress Erik had forced her in several nights ago. This one was more poufy and had a longer train. It was also embroidered with a golden floral design and had a rippling effect in the back. Stunned, Christine stared at it a moment before gently touching it. The fabric was soft to the touch, and she knew that she wouldn't feel uncomfortable in this dress. At seeing her friend's admiration, Meg cut in, "It's beautiful, isn't it? The Phantom had it custom made just for you. Or, at least, that's what my mother told me."

"It's gorgeous," Christine concurred, unable to take her eyes off it.

Meg smiled and said, "Well, let's get you in it then!" She began to work on Christine's laces. "And while we're doing this, you simply must tell me what happened! We got down to the catacombs only for you to be nowhere to find. We searched and searched without a single lead. Most of the officers swore that you were probably already long gone. And then my mother suddenly told me that not only were you in Paris but that you were still living underneath the opera house!"

And so as Meg worked on getting Christine into her wedding dress, Christine relayed to her nearly everything that had happened since the night of _Don Juan Triumphant_. Enraptured, Meg clung to every word that fell from Christine's mouth, barely ever asking a clarifying question in the middle of the story. Once Christine was finally in her wedding dress, Meg began fixing Christine's hair, all while Christine continued to explain the bizarre happenings of the last couple of nights. Just as Meg placed on the final touches, she asked, "But you love him, right?"

"I don't know, Meg," Christine answered honestly. "I hardly know him as a person at all, and my heart still wishes to be with Raoul if it must remain with only one."

Having finished, Meg sat down across from Christina and inquired, "Then why are you marrying him?"

Christine looked away and responded, "Because I promised to, Meg."

Clearly empathizing for her friend, Meg murmured, "Do you hate him then?"

"No," Christine told her without a moment's hesitation. "I do not hate him."

Smiling softly, Meg said, "Well, just remember: some marriages have started with even less than that. Hold your head high, Christine. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Christine nodded, and Meg smiled sympathetically to her friend before rising to her feet. The blonde picked up the veil hanging on the mirror and gently dropped it onto Christine's head before pulling the veil over her face. Once more, Christine's sight was blurred. She rose to her feet in one fluid movement, though, and asked, "When does the wedding begin?"

"Any minute now," Meg replied. Just after she said this, the bells in the bell tower began to ring. Christine jumped from the sudden noise. Closing her eyes, she listened to the soft melody, which was flowing, bright, and crisp. Very gently, Meg pulled up on Christine's arm. "It is time," she murmured.

Rising to her feet, Christine braced herself for what was about to come. These were her last few moments of freedom. After this, she would be tied to Erik until death separated them. Now anxious, Christine followed Meg into the church and made it to the center aisle. Quickly, Meg gave her a bouquet of flowers before leaving her all alone, and she looked up to find Madame Giry, a priest, and Erik were just down the aisle from her. "Here Comes the Bride" began to play, and Christine took her first step forward. As a child, she had always dreamed about her father walking her down the aisle. When he had passed away when she was so young, though, she knew such a thing would never become true. Sure enough, no miracle had happened. She was alone, her hands firmly grasping the bouquet for dear life, but no father there to give her support and tell her she was doing the right thing.

Before she had even realized what happened, though, she had made it down the aisle. She stepped up and turned to face Erik. He was wearing a mask much like the one from _Don_ _Juan_ _Triumphant_ – black that only covered the skin around his eyes, ranging from his eyebrow to his upper cheek bone. He was in a nicely pressed suit with the crisp white undershirt standing out against the black. Very slowly, he reached out to take Christine's hands. Meg gently pulled the bouquet away, and Christine felt his gloved hands slip into her own. A sense of relief washed over her as he did so, though, and she felt more confident with just that touch. Suddenly, Christine's attention was brought back to the priest.

"We are gathered here today in the sight of God, and in the face of family and friends to join together Erik de Rouen and Christine Daaé in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, Instituted of God, since the first man and the first woman walked on the earth. Therefore, it is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly. Into this holy estate, these two persons present come now to be joined. If anyone can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace," the priest droned out.

Christine held her breath, half-expecting for Raoul to burst through the church doors right that moment. A long moment of silence passed, though, and Christine pushed her silly daydream aside. What did she expect? For Raoul to have a psychic vision and come running to keep her from being married to another man? Madame Giry coughed slightly under her breath and looked at the priest meaningfully. Nodding, the priest asked, "Who gives this woman to be married to this man?"

"I do," Madame Giry stated, surprising Christine. She hadn't expected to be given away, seeing as how her family had all passed. Even so, something felt right about Madame Giry taking the honor. After all, Madame Giry had become a second mother to her as she lived at the Opera Populaire.

The priest continued, "I require and charge you both that if either of you know any impediment why you may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, you confess it now."

Whether it was subconscious or not, Erik's hands grasped Christine's a little harder. It wasn't painful, but it was almost as if he was worried that she might pull away from him now that she had the chance. Of course, he didn't realize just how many chances she had before. She would stand her ground and marry Erik; she was bound and determined to do so.

After a respectable amount of time, the priest said, "This is the day you have chosen to become husband and wife. We are here, not only to witness your commitment to each other, but also to wish you every happiness in your future life together. Within its framework of commitment and loyalty, marriage enables the establishment of a home, where through trust, patience, and respect, the love and affection, which you have for each other, may develop into a deep and lasting relationship. We, who are witnessing your marriage, hope that despite the stresses inevitable in any life, your love, respect for each other, and your trust and understanding of each other will increase your contentment and heighten your joy in living."

Then the priest turned to Erik and inquired, "Erik, do you take Christine for your lawful wedded wife – to live together after God's ordinance in the Holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honor, comfort, and cherish her from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto her for as long as you both shall live?"

Erik's gaze never turned away from Christine. "I do," he said, his powerful voice resonating in the church.

Turning to Christine, the priest then inquired, "And Christine, do you take Erik for your lawful wedded husband – to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honor, comfort, and cherish him from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto him for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Christine stated, her voice a bit shaky as she said those words.

The priest said a prayer before he turned towards Erik once more. "Repeat after me."

Nodding, Erik repeated the vows perfectly. His voice remained just as powerful as he said, "I, Erik, take thee, Christine, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. To love, honor, and cherish 'til death do us part."

As Christine's turn came, she found herself still not as confident as Erik. Her voice wavered as she recited, "I, Christine, take thee, Erik, to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold from this day forward. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. To love, honor, and cherish, 'til death do us part."

Turning towards Madame Giry, the priest quickly took something from her. "Lord, bless this ring – that he who gives it and she who wears it may abide in your peace and continue in your favor until life's end. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Erik removed his glovers and carefully took the ring from the priest and placed it barely on Christine's left ring finger. "With this ring, I thee wed. Wear it as a symbol of our love and commitment," he stated, sliding it all the way down her finger. It felt heavy on her hand but glittered brilliantly in the light.

Once more, the priest turned towards Madame Giry. Once he turned back, he said, "Lord, bless this ring – that she who gives it and he who wears it may abide in your peace and continue in your favor until life's end. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Christine's hands were shaking as she took the onyx black ring, and she almost dropped it before managing to get it around the top knuckle of Erik's left ring finger. In a weak voice, she said, "With this ring, I thee wed. Wear it as a symbol of our love and commitment."

"As Erik and Christine have consented together in holy wedlock and have witnessed the same before God and this company, having given and pledged their lives each to the other and having declared the same by giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce that they are husband and wife!" the priest declared. He then lowered his voice and said, "You may seal your promises with a kiss!"

Erik slowly pulled back Christine's veil. As he leaned forward, she braced herself for the final seal of their pact. Very gently, Erik brushed his lips against hers. Christine instinctively leaned in, and Erik took this as permission. He claimed her lips with his own, pulling her closer to him as he did so. Christine's knees almost buckled from the power of the kiss, and she felt her heart begin to race as he hungrily swept his tongue against her lips. Sighing, Christine opened her mouth in submission, but Erik was too tentative to plunge in and explore. Instead, he very gently flicked at her tongue with his own before pulling back.

"I present to you Monsieur and Madame de Rouen!" the priest proclaimed. Instantly, the bells began ringing, announcing to the entire city that a marriage had happened.

Erik's eyes widened as he heard the bells as well, and he turned towards the priest. "I told you that there were no bells to be played at the end!" he hissed.

Recoiling a bit, the priest stammered, "T-there must have been a misunderstanding, Monsieur."

"A misunderstanding!" Erik reiterated incredulously. "Very well then; we need the papers."

"I have them with me, but I thought it might be better if you and the Madame completed them tomorrow. After all, it's your wedding day," the priest stated.

Erik pursed his lips slightly. "It will only take a couple of minutes now, my good sir," he explained. "And my wife and I would like to be through this as quickly as possible so that we may begin our honeymoon."

"Of course, of course," the priest responded, walking back. After what felt like the longest minute, he came back with a small stack of papers. "The Madame will have to sign them in her maiden name."

And thus, the two set forth on signing the legal papers of their marriage. It wasn't too long before they were done, and both Meg and Madame Giry had to step forward and sign as witnesses. Once they had completed their part, Erik picked the papers up and handed them to Madame Giry. "I want you to deliver these to the city hall as soon as possible," he told her, handing them to her.

"Of course," Madame Giry agreed, bowing her head and stepping back.

Turning towards Christine, Erik said, "Unfortunately, you'll have to change out of your wedding gown. It is not yet safe for you to wander the streets of Paris during the day."

"I'll help her," Meg offered, taking Christine by the hand and pulling her away. As soon as the door closed behind them, Meg turned to Christine and asked, "How does it feel to finally be married?"

Christine shook her head and answered, "No different from how I felt just two hours ago. I don't know what it means to be Madame de Rouen yet."

As Meg pulled at the corset's strings, she said, "I'm sure it eventually will. Are you happy at least? Or is _he_ still on your mind?"

Christine was surprised when she realized that it took her a moment to understand whom Meg was talking about. "You mean Raoul?" she clarified after a moment.

"Well, of course," Meg replied. "I wasn't going to bring him up before the wedding, of course, just in case you were already thinking about him. I didn't want to weigh you down any more than you already were. But I mean, you two were engaged to be married. He was your childhood sweetheart after all, and he tried so hard to keep you from the Phantom of the Opera. I was just curious if you still thought of him."

Pressing her lips together, Christine responded, "Not as much as I thought I would, to be honest. After the wedding began, I hardly gave him a moment's notice. I think I just came to accept my situation. What's the point on lingering on the 'what if's when you know they're never going to happen?"

Meg let the dress hit the floor before saying, "I guess that's one way of looking at it. But Christine, you must be a bit more optimistic for your future. You're hardly giving your husband a chance, despite everything he's ever done to prove his love for you."

"You don't think that I'm trying?" Christine asked as she stepped into the other dress. "The man is nearly impossible to understand. One moment, he's clearly a gentle soul who is just seeking for someone to understand and care about him. The next, he's a psychopath who has just murdered someone! How am I supposed to live with that?"

Meg pulled at Christine's strings. "Why don't you try to imagine a life without him? And I don't mean a life with Raoul instead, but a life in which you had never met the Phantom," she suggested.

A life without Erik? The thought had never crossed her mind before. Blinking, Christine allowed her mind to wander around that thought. She would have come to the opera house and remained a ballet girl. If she had remained a ballet girl, Raoul would have never noticed her on stage. And if Raoul had never recognized her, she would be in a totally different situation – she wouldn't have had any suitors to marry, nonetheless two. On the other hand, the Opera Populaire would have still be intact and living out its prime. Even so, what would have been the point? Part of the reason she held the Opera Populaire so dear was because the Angel of Music lived there.

"Do you see now?" Meg murmured, pulling Christine back to the present. "Sometimes people take what is in front of them for granted just because it has always been there."

Smiling softly, Christine felt Meg tie off her corset. "I thank you," she whispered. Christine turned around and pulled her friend into an embrace. She didn't know when she would see Meg next, but she didn't want this moment to end. They had been friends since Christine arrived at the opera house over twelve years ago. Suddenly, there was a knocking on the other side of the door. Meg pulled away, and Christine reluctantly released her. Meg opened the door. Sure enough, Erik was standing on the other side.

"We don't have much time. Put your veil on, Christine. Quickly now," Erik ordered.

Christine grabbed her black veil and put it on. Covering her face with it, she then turned to Meg and said, "Thank you, dear friend, for being here today for me."

"Of course," Meg said, squeezing Christine's hand.

"We must go," Erik reiterated, clearly anxious about something. "Come, Christine." He offered her his arm, and she accepted it. He then led her across the church towards the back; his long strides forced her to nearly jog in order to keep up. Just as they exited through the back, she heard someone burst through the front. She didn't have the chance to look back, though, because Erik was pulling open a carriage door and urging her inside. Hurriedly, she slid into the carriage. Erik leapt in behind her and slammed the door shut. The carriage started down the street, but it wasn't until the church was out of sight that Erik relaxed.

Leaning forward slightly, Christine asked, "Is everything alright?"

"Now, yes," Erik told her honestly. "Your former lover, the _Vicomte_ de Chagny, has been hunting for you day and night. Because of our last – how shall we call it – rendezvous, he knows of my intention to take you as my bride. He's been on high alert every time the church bells ring to signal a wedding. That is why I had the bell rings in an original melody that I wrote – so that he would not suspect anything. Unfortunately, that simple-minded priest forgot to tell them not to ring the bells at the end of our wedding. As soon as they went off, the _vicomte_ was bound to come running to the church to see whose wedding it was. Had he caught us there, I am not sure what would have transpired."

Surprised, Christine blinked several times as her brain processed the information. She had no idea that Raoul would go to such lengths to find her. It was romantic in its own right, but she cast those thoughts aside. After all, she was a married woman now, and she would not have her honor slandered by bedding another man besides her wedded husband. Suddenly, Christine felt her heart sink and her face pale. They had gotten married today, which meant that they would have to consummate the marriage as well. A lump formed in Christine's throat, and she tried to swallow it only to fail. Quickly, she assured herself that it was only natural to be nervous.

"So," Christine began, trying to steer her thoughts into a new direction, "will we be heading to a hotel then?"

Erik shook his head. "We will return to the Opera Populaire. The officials probably assume that it was you and me who were married today after they question the priest, although the priest has sworn himself to silence. They will then be expecting us to be staying overnight in a hotel. And who would return to their last location when there are patrols circling it?" he reasoned, looking out the window built into the door. "No; we shall return to the Opera Populaire for the time being."

"Very well," Christine murmured, looking down at her own hands.

A long moment of silence passed between the two before Erik softly called out, "Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?" Christine asked. He had caught her off guard.

Erik didn't look at her as he answered, "Regret choosing this."

"Looking back, I wish I had done certain things differently. However, I have not regretted my decision in a while. Even today, I did not regret. I despaired a bit – yes – for my lost freedom, but I did not regret. Nor will I," Christine told him honestly. "What is the point of regretting when you cannot change what you have done? You must simply make the best of what is to come, and you hopefully make up for your past mistakes."

Still not looking at her, Erik didn't say anything. His gaze remained fixed on the outside world. An uncomfortable silence fell between the two of them. Their carriage stopped just outside an alleyway that led straight to the opera house. Quickly, Erik opened the door and stepped out before assisting Christine out of the carriage. As soon as her feet touched the ground, he closed the door, and the carriage drove off as if nothing had happened. The two slipped down the alleyway, and Erik checked the street before leading Christine across it with him. As quickly as they could, they stepped down into the cold darkness underneath the destroyed Opera Populaire. The metal gate clanged behind them, and Erik led Christine once again through the tunnels. Just as they were about to enter the main room, Erik spun on his heels and lifted Christine into his arms. Christine squeaked in surprise, having not expected such a reaction.

"I was told it was customary for the husband to carry his new bride over the threshold," Erik explained. He stepped into the room, and Christine could see that his cheeks were slightly flushed. A moment later, she realized that they were most likely flushed from embarrassment.

Resting her head on his chest, Christine said, "I have heard the same thing. Thank you."

Erik didn't say anything, just carried her over to the bed and gently set her down. Christine realized where she was and raised her eyebrows in surprise. Before she could say anything, though, she felt his lips press against hers. The kiss was soft – gentle – with a hint of need behind it. Instinctively, Christine closed her eyes as Erik claimed her lips more fully. As always, she was being completely swept away by him. Something inside her had always submitted to him – and it still did. She felt the bed sink around her, and she knew that he had shifted onto the bed as well. Very slowly, Christine lifted her hand to touch his cheek. Unlike before, though, she didn't feel the gnawing curiosity of what laid behind his mask. He leaned in closer to her, gently nipping at her lower lip. Christine obligingly opened her mouth. Just as carefully as he had been before, Erik slipped his tongue in. It met hers in a second, and she gently teased him by flicking her tongue at his own before withdrawing. This plan, however, backfired. Instead of pursuing her, Erik pulled back and broke the kiss. It was only then, though, that Christine felt a pull at her corset. She hadn't realized that he had been untying her dress the entire time. Not only that, but her veil had been removed sometime as well. As soon as it came loose, Erik tentatively lifted his hands and slowly exposed her shoulders.

A passionate need bloomed within Christine – a feeling that she had never had before. She wiggled slightly out of her dress, allowing it to expose her breasts as well. Suddenly, Erik swooped down and claimed her mouth once more. Christine didn't tease him this time and sighed into the kiss. Erik had also changed, for he had become bolder. His tongue plunged into her mouth, attesting to the fact that she was now his as he explored it carefully. As their tongues tangoed, Erik managed to work Christine completely out of her dress. Their kiss broke again, and Christine was breathless. She quickly but clumsily managed to remove his jacket and unbutton his shirt. For the first time, Christine realized just how built Erik was. He was very toned, every muscle defined, but not chiseled. Suddenly, she felt a pair of lips against her neck, and Christine gasped in surprise. He gently kissed and nipped all down her neck before latching onto one of her breasts. A fiery jolt of pleasure shot through her, and Christine arched up and pressed herself against him as she moaned. As soon as she managed to get her mind back in order, she tugged at his belt. She fumbled with it for a few seconds before finally getting it undone. Pulling away for a second, Erik kicked off the rest of his clothing. Christine looked down, and her eyes widened as she took him all in.

Before she could start to worry, though, Erik recaptured her lips. She felt her legs being shifted further apart before a small digit slid easily inside of her. Tensing in discomfort, Christine pulled back for a moment. Erik, however, merely transferred his loving caresses elsewhere. He gently kissed each breast before capturing a nipple between his teeth. Moaning, Christine felt herself relax to the touch. As his ministrations brought her attention away, he slipped a second finger inside of her and began stretching her further. The second finger was registered in her mind as another dull sense of discomfort flooded her. Luckily, her attention relied mainly elsewhere. When he inserted a third finger, though, Christine gasped in pain. Erik stopped immediately, examining her carefully but not removing his fingers from within her. He kissed and nipped at her neck again before whispering, "You're almost ready." After waiting another moment, he began thrusting his fingers in and out slowly. Before long, Christine found herself bucking down in order to get more contact. Her pain had finally turned into pleasure. Erik then removed his fingers and positioned himself precisely. At seeing this, Christine subconsciously tensed up. "You must relax," Erik whispered to her in a husky voice. "It will hurt more if you don't." Christine nodded and forced herself to relax. Very slowly, Erik slid himself into her. Christine bit her bottom lip as her body protested to the invasion and a flare of pain erupted inside her. Even so, she took the pain as gracefully as she could. Once he was completely inside, Erik breathed out and said, "I will wait until you are ready."

Christine shifted slightly, not entire comfortable with him inside her, until she got used to the sensation. Slightly nodding her head, she gave him the "go ahead." Erik nodded in return before slowly pulling out and thrusting back in. His movements were careful at first, which helped Christine with the pain. After a while, though, the pain began to fade, and her pulse began racing again as a passionate heat overtook her. She bucked down, signaling him to move faster. Erik was only too willing to comply. Soon, all that could be heard was Christine's moans, Erik's ragged breaths, and the connection of flesh with flesh. Christine felt as if though a warm bubble was being blown up inside of her with every thrust. All too soon, she found herself on the cusp of passion. Tensing up, Christine cried out in pleasure as she felt the warm bubble burst inside of her. Erik paid almost no heed to her cry, for his thrusts were becoming more wild and frequent. Just after she had her final wave of pleasure, Christine felt Erik tense up and move inside her. Something warm pulsed into her, and Erik cried out, "Christine!"

He pulled out of her and collapsed on the bed next to her. Still breathless, they both said nothing to each other. They had at last become one. Erik turned towards Christine and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close to him. Resting her head on his chest, Christine closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off into the peaceful abyss of sleep.


	5. Thursday, April 6, 1871

**Author's Note****:** Thanks goes to **macymay201** for the extremely enthusiastic review! It completely brightened up my day! As always, please review if possible and enjoy the chapter.

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Rolling over in the bed, Christine nestled closer to the only source of warmth in the room. An arm wrapped around her, and she felt herself being pulled into a broad chest. Quickly, Christine opened her eyes to find Erik laying next to her. Reality crashed down around her, and she jerked away and sat straight up in the bed. Her face flushed as the memories proceeded before her mind. Erik stirred next to her, opening his eyes and looking at her quizzically. At some point, he had changed masks, and it struck Christine as strange that he could sleep comfortably in one. Of course, she guessed she shouldn't find it strange since she had already seen him fight in it. Scrambling from the bed, Christine felt nauseated as she realized the extent of her commitment. Every morning, she would wake to see Erik sleeping next to her.

"Christine," Erik called out. His baritone voice reverberated on the walls. "Is everything alright?"

Shaking her head, Christine responded, "Madame Giry will be here any moment, and I need to look decent before her arrival." A white lie to be sure, but it kept her from having an anxiety attack.

"Let me help you," Erik offered, getting out of the bed. Christine slipped into her nightgown and patiently waited for Erik to tie it. His nimble fingers worked the laces efficiently, and he managed to tie her up without any problem.

Christine turned and flushed slightly at the state of his apparel – or the lack thereof. "You should get decent as well," she suggested before leaving the room in a hurry.

Stopping next to the piano, Christine took in a couple of deep breaths in order to calm herself. She had never realized before just how scared of commitments she was. Even during the wedding nothing had really sunk in. But she was now bound to this man. The rest of their lives were to be together. Every day, she would wake up with him beside her. Every night, she would go to sleep in the same bed as him. "Until death do us part" was a larger commitment than just the couple of seconds it took to say those five little words. Staring at the ring on her finger, Christine fought to control herself. She wasn't going to allow herself to have a panic attack. Instead, she would just have to get through each day. If she just focused on getting through today then she could worry about tomorrow when it came.

"Christine?" a sweet voice called out.

Christine was yanked back into the present, and she was startled to find Madame Giry standing in front of her. Letting out a scream, she leapt back from the woman before she managed to realize who it was. "Madame Giry, you nearly scared me to death!" she exclaimed, holding a hard over her heart.

Erik came bounding out of the bedroom, giving his belt one last pull to make sure it was on. "Is everything alright?" he asked, looking between the two women.

"I just startled her a bit," Madame Giry explained. "She didn't notice me come in. Her head must have been in the clouds."

Christine bobbed her head. "I apologize for startling you both. I hadn't heard Madame Giry come in," she murmured.

"It's quite alright, my girl," Madame Giry stated, wrapping one arm around Christine's shoulders. "How about we get you changed, and you can tell me all about your wedding night."

Flushing, Christine felt her face burn brightly as she remembered it. Erik quickly came to her defense. "The only two people – besides the Lord – who have to know anything about our wedding night is Christine and myself. You'll do yourself no good by sticking your nose into our private business," he told her.

Madame Giry smiled mischievously before replying, "By her response alone, I can tell how your night went." Christine ducked her head down and made a bee-line for the bedroom to change. As she did so, she could hear Erik tell something to Madame Giry in a low voice. A couple seconds later, though, Madame Giry had followed her into the bedroom. She lowered her voice as she asked Christine, "You consummated the marriage?"

"Well, I'm sure he didn't want there to be a chance our marriage would be voided by non-consummation," she whispered in return. Her face felt like it was on fire.

Still clearly surprised, Madame Giry slowly shook her head. "Well," she murmured after a moment's pause, "I suppose that I should properly congratulate you on your marriage."

"Thank you," Christine answered as she slipped out of her nightgown. Quickly, she stepped into her dress for the day – a light pink gown that would be perfect as spring came around. It had been a late start this year, and Christine longed for the warmth and brightness of spring to descend upon the,. Winter had a tendency to drag on for her. Once her dress was on, Christine stepped away and looked back at Madame Giry. "I never got the chance, but I wanted to thank you for giving me away yesterday. It meant a lot to me, especially since my own parents couldn't be there."

"Of course," Madame Giry said. "I never lied when I said that I felt as if you were my own daughter. You and Meg are sisters in all but blood, so it was only natural that we would be there for you on your wedding day."

Christine smiled as she heard this. "After my father passed away, you two are the closest thing I've had to a family," she confessed, somehow managing to not get emotional. "And it makes me so happy to hear that you feel the same way. We must stay in contact no matter what might happen."

Madame Giry's smile faded as Christine said this. Her brows furrowed together, and she forced a bitter smile to her face. "My dear, I'm afraid that won't be possible. As long as the police keep investigating me because of my connections in the Opera Populaire, I will be unable to keep in contact with you after you leave. I can barely get away for the few minutes each day to come see you."

Christine's heart sank as she heard this. "But they surely cannot investigate you for forever," she pointed out.

"With the _Vicomte_ de Chagny paying them, I wouldn't be surprised if they did," Madame Giry replied. "I don't believe I will know where you move to. He'll probably keep it from me in order to ensure your protection. If I knew, there would be a possibility that the police would find it."

Christine pressed her lips together, and she felt a warmth behind her eyes. Fighting back tears, she swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked away from Madame Giry. "Perhaps I could convince him otherwise," she suggested.

"Perhaps," Madame Giry concurred. "But if you do, I warn you to wait at least six months if not longer before trying to make contact."

Smiling softly, Christine hugged Madame Giry. "Give Meg my love," she said, knowing Madame Giry's time was up.

"Of course," Madame Giry said. She gently squeezed Christine's hand before heading towards the main room. Christine trailed after her for a ways. Madame Giry said goodbye to Erik before slipping out of the room.

Shifting uncomfortably, Christine looked over at Erik. "And how are you this morning?" she inquired, already tired of the silence between them.

"Quite well. You?" he replied politely.

Christine nodded. "The same," she told him before looking around the room for something else to further their conversation. Her eyes lingered on the piano for a moment, and Erik took notice.

"Would you like me to play for you?" he inquired, motioning towards it.

In response, Christine smiled and said, "Actually, I was hoping I could sing something. I haven't sang in quite a while."

"Of course," Erik responded, sitting at the piano. "What would you like to sing?"

Christine hesitated as she tried to come up with a proper song to sing. The most recent songs she had learned were from Erik's musical, _Don Juan Triumphant_, and she didn't want to touch on those memories just yet. Shaking her head, Christine reached further back in her memory for a proper song to sing. A song struck her thoughts, and she blurted out the title before thinking it over properly, "_Think_ _of_ _Me_."

Erik's eyes widened slightly as she said the title, but he didn't comment on her selection. Instead, he turned his back to her and began playing the piano. Waiting the proper amount of time, Christine closed her eyes and felt her heartbeat quicken for a moment. "Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye," she sang out, fluttering her eyes open. "Remember me once in a while, please promise me you'll try. Then you find that once again you long to take your heart back be free, if you'll ever find a moment, spare a thought for me."

Erik's fingers danced across the keys. His confidence while playing was astounding, and he never once fumbled during his solo. Instead, his hands glided, crossing one another sometimes without hesitation. Christine was so fascinated that she almost missed her cue. Sucking in a breath, she sang, "We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea. But if you can still remember, stop and think of me. Think of all the things we've shared and seen. Don't think about the way things might have been. Think of me – think of me waking silent and resigned. Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind. Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of those things we'll never do. There will never be a day when I won't think of you."

Just then, the candles on the piano flickered in what should have been still air. Erik stopped playing immediately, and Christine fell completely silent. She knew that the candles flickering meant that someone was coming. The only person who should be visiting them would be Madame Giry, but she had just left, leaving her no reason to return. After a moment's silence, he leapt to his feet and began blowing out all of the candles. Christine remained frozen as the room darkened to pitch black. Suddenly, she felt an arm slip around her back, and she was lifted up by Erik. He must have known the room by heart, because before she knew it, they were in the bedroom. Quickly, Erik set her down next to the wall before blowing out the last couple of candles. Just she felt him press himself against her, pinning her against the wall, Christine heard a familiar tenor voice call out, "Christine!"

Sucking in a breath, Christine covered her mouth as she heard Raoul's voice call her out again. She quickly buried her face in Erik's chest in order to muffle herself. Her heart wrenched inside her body as she heard him call her name for a third time. Then there was nothing – pure silence. However, she could hear a soft sob. Trembling in Erik's arms, Christine fought with herself. She wanted desperately to comfort Raoul – to tell him to not cry for her. But she bit her tongue and said nothing. If he discovered they were there, there was no telling what would happen.

"Curse you!" Raoul bellowed, his voice reverberating off the walls. It was the first time Christine had ever heard him so angry in her entire life. "You spirits who torment me. You lift my soul by letting me hear her voice only to crush me entirely to find no one is here! She's gone – off with that monster who took her from me. Oh, Christine!" Christine's heart broke as she heard this. Tears fell from her eyes silently, and she didn't even try to wipe them away. Instead, she let them fall to the ground. Suddenly, she heard him sing, "You said you'd share with me one love, one lifetime. I swore I'd lead you from your solitude. You said you needed me with you – there, beside you. Anywhere you'd go, I would go, too. Christine, that's what I promised you!"

Suddenly, another voice rang out. "_Vicomte,_ we came as soon as we could," a male said.

"I was mistaken. Return to your stations. There's nothing here besides haunting memories," Raoul told him. "After the mysterious wedding yesterday, I guess I was just wishing for her to be here. I apologize for disturbing you." The next thing they heard was a set of footsteps retreating. Neither of them moved for the longest minute, both unsure if Raoul was still there or not. They received their answer a moment later when they heard him speak. "Christine, you warned me. You told me that he would take you for good this time. But I was too arrogant and confident to realize the risk you were taking until it was too late. But I swear to you here – the last place I saw you alive – that I will find you once more. I'll keep on trying until my dying day. I just need to know what has happened to you. And when I do, I will embrace you and never let you go. I will never stop searching for you." With that, they heard a second set of footsteps grow distant.

The two remained quiet for a long moment before Erik stepped back. Crying softly, Christine wiped away her tears. "Still no regrets?" Erik asked bitterly.

"How can you expect me to react any differently?" she retorted. "He was my first love, and he's so torn apart – blaming himself for what happened. It wasn't his fault."

Erik's eyes flashed in the darkness. "You're right. It's mine," he stated coldly, his eyes locking onto hers.

"That's not what I meant!" Christine quickly said, trying to cover her blunder.

Erik replied vehemently, "Don't treat me like a fool! I'm no idiot. And since we're on the subject, why don't we speak about your former lover a bit? He has claimed to love you since you were a child, correct?"

"We were childhood sweethearts, yes," Christine answered, slightly confused.

Erik then asked, "Then where was he all those years you were training at the Opera Populaire? Surely he family heard about your father's death, but they did not send for you. For twelve years, you had no interaction with the _vicomte_, and during that time, I watched over you and taught you and came to love you. Where was he all those years, Christine? He was in his nice mansion, being doted on by the maids and enjoying his frivolous life while you trained every day with the hopes of becoming a star."

"I'm sure his family just didn't know how to get in contact with me. After all, I had no remaining living relatives," Christine responded, defending Raoul.

Scoffing, Erik then inquired, "Then what about the first time he arrived? He walked by you without even realizing who you were! It was only when you took to the stage that he finally recognized you. And it was only after it became clear that you could be _prima donna_ that he came to you in that dressing room. But I had loved you before then! I had cared for you well before he even remembered you existed, but you went running back to him all the same. You never even gave me a fighting chance." Christine could hear the emotion in Erik's voice; he was fighting back anger and tears. After a moment of silence, Erik opened a drawer and lit one of the candles with a match. He then reached down and lifted up two large suitcases. "Pack everything you can while I am gone."

"Where are you going?" Christine asked. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.

Erik merely responded, "I need to make some arrangements. I'll be back soon."

Without another word, he left her alone. After taking another minute to collect herself, Christine lit some of the other candles. She then started to pack, finding the activity satisfyingly numbing. Somehow, she managed to force all her possessions into one suitcase. Hesitating, Christine found that she had no possessions besides the ones Erik had given her. She had no dowry to speak of. The only thing she had come here with were her clothes, which she eventually outgrew, and her father's picture, which must have been burnt in the fire. Turning towards the second suitcase, she knew she had to pack for Erik. It was deemed appropriate since she was the wife. That word still struck her as funny. Turning away, Christine started going through the room. At first, she just packed his clothes and masks. She hesitated as she found his mask from _Don Juan Triumphant_, and she wondered when he had gone back up to get it. Turning, she set it into his suitcase before piling some clothes on top of it.

Although it felt like it had been years ago, she could still remember that night clearly – the way his eyes had locked onto hers. The way she had lost herself once again in his power and in his voice. She felt herself give into something instinctive and primal when singing with him. When he touched her, her heart had raced. For a long moment, she had forgotten everything – the Opera Populaire, the plan, _Don Juan Triumphant,_ and Raoul. Everything had faded away until it was just her and Erik.

Suddenly, Christine was pulled to the present as she touched something hard and cold. Since she was packing Erik's clothes, she hadn't been expecting such a sensation. She pulled out whatever it was and moved closer to the light. Much to her surprise, she was looking down at the portrait of her father that she used to light a candle for. Overwhelmed, Christine felt some tears slip from her eyes. It looked like it had been cut off somehow, because there was still a bit in the back where it used to be attached to the altar.

"I was planning on giving it to you the night we left," Erik said, making Christine jerk around.

Christine asked, "When did you go get it?"

"The night after they stopped the fires from burning while you were sleeping soundly. It was luckily untouched by the flames," he told her. "I thought it would be a nice memento for you to have after we left. A piece of the Opera Populaire… and, of course, your father."

Smiling softly, Christine murmured, "Thank you for retrieving this for me. It means a lot."

Erik nodded and stepped to the side. Christine unclipped her suitcase and placed the picture on the top in the middle. For a moment, she just looked down at it; she was so relieved that it was back in her hands. Closing it again, she looked over to find Erik had snapped his shut. He grabbed both of them. Christine went to point out that she didn't know if she had packed everything. However, Erik cut her off, "You have packed enough. We must leave now."

"Where are we going?" Christine inquired as she followed him out.

Erik stopped a moment, looking back at her. "Away from this cursed place," he told her. "Into the countryside, where we will live in peace."

Blinking, Christine said nothing as she followed him. She had lived in several locations throughout her life, but she had always had the impression that Erik hadn't really known of another home besides the Opera Populaire. Before she knew it, they were at the gate that led them out. Erik set a suitcase down and checked for anyone around. After waiting for several minutes, he finally opened the gate, picked up the suitcases, and slipped out. Right behind him, Christine closed the gate to the Opera Populaire for what would be the last time. Just as she was about to follow him down an alleyway, Christine glanced back at the Opera Populaire one last time. She felt a sharp stab of nostalgia and sadness pierce her heart. And all too soon, the Opera Populaire disappeared behind her. She turned forward to find Erik directly in front of her, blocking her view of anything else in front of her. Then she dropped her head so no one could see her face. After all, she didn't want to cause a scene now of all times. At the end of the alleyway, he stopped. A closed carriage pulled up to where they were standing. Without saying a word to the driver, Erik opened the door and offered Christine a hand to get inside. Christine accepted it and stepped up and in. Quickly, Erik loaded their luggage before getting in as well and sitting next to Christine. As soon as the door closed, the driver whistled, and the carriage started to move.

"Are we heading back to Rouen?" Christine asked after a minute or so of silence.

Tensing up slightly, Erik responded, "No. They would know me there. We'll be living in the countryside – just northeast of Soissons. I recently bought a small estate for us to live in. We shouldn't have any neighbors for a few miles, so I believe we'll be safe. Additionally, we'll be far enough outside of Paris that the hype of the mystery of the Opera Populaire will have worn out there."

"Have you ever lived outside of Paris before?" Christine inquired, genuinely curious. Erik shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the question. Before he could deny her answer, she asked, "Don't you find it strange that I know next to nothing about the man I married?"

At hearing this, Erik looked down at his lap. "I have very few fond memories in my life," he explained. "I have already told you how my parents rejected me. Not even my mother could stand to touch me. When I was still young, I had this idea that I could find people who would accept me. And then I heard that the gypsies were in Rouen. Naïve, I thought that if any group could understand the discrimination, prejudice, and scorn I felt then it would be them. So late one night, I fled from my parents' home to join the gypsies. Looking back on it now, I doubt my parents even tried to find me. In any case, I went to the gypsies in hopes of finding acceptance. What I found, though, was far worse." He paused for a minute in order to gain his composure. Christine could hear him losing it as he spoke. Very gently, she reached out and wrapped her hand over one of his clenched fists. She didn't say a word to him, just patiently waited for him to continue. "They put me in a cage – locked me in there like an animal. I became one of their many exhibits. 'The Devil's Child,' they called me. Then I traveled all over France with them. In each location, I was scorned and mocked. And there was only one time when I saw a sympathetic face. But that, my dear Christine, is another story. I came to loathe my 'caretaker' – if one could even call him that – as he had a tendency to whip me for no reason before revealing my face to the spectators. So I have seen more of France than probably you have, although I don't consider myself to have lived anywhere besides Paris and Rouen."

Christine felt absolutely dreadful that she had brought up such a sensitive subject for him. Of course, she hadn't known; but she still couldn't shake the feeling. She had really known next to nothing about Erik, and yet she had made all of her decisions as if she had known everything. She kept her hand on top of his. "Who was the sympathetic one? Did you ever find out his or her name?" Christine asked.

"Antoinette Giry," he responded, looking over at Christine. She was more surprised than she thought she should be to hear this. Although it had always been clear that Madame Giry knew more about the Phantom of the Opera than anyone else, Christine had never even imagined that the Madame had known him from before he even lived in the opera house. "Madame Giry had been that sympathetic soul in the crowd. She saved me from the gypsies and hid me in the catacombs of the Opera Populaire. Since then, she had served as a mother to me. She got me supplies whenever she could afford it. Every Christmas, she brought me a gift. After a while, I learned how to pickpocket from unsuspecting audience members because I wanted to be able to get her something as well. Once she discovered what I was doing, though, I was forbidden to do it ever again. She told me she wasn't raising me to be a criminal. Instead, she wanted me to become an honest man. It was that day I knew I would become an artist and make her proud."

"I had no idea," Christine murmured, looking down at her hands.

Shaking his head, Erik replied, "How could you have? I don't like talking about it, and Madame Giry couldn't tell anyone about it. That is, of course, until she told the _vicomte_."

"Raoul knew?" Christine asked, shocked. He had never told Christine anything of the sort.

Erik nodded. "Madame Giry told him the night of the masquerade. I only found out he knew after I realized she had helped him find the catacombs," he told her. At that point, Christine realized that that must have been what started the argument she heard that first day. She sought for a conversation changer. Luckily, Erik beat her to it. "What about you? Where did you live before coming to the Opera Populaire?"

"My father and I traveled a lot," Christine confessed, "especially after my mother died. So I never really had a permanent home until I moved to the Opera Populaire. As a child, though, I didn't mind. As long as my father was there, I didn't need anything else."

Erik looked out the window and inquired, "Is what when you met Raoul?"

"The de Chagny family requested for my father to play at one of their balls. When he explained to them that he would have to bring his daughter, they had no qualms because their youngest son was around my age. We arrived that night, and the _Comtesse_ de Chagny grew very fond of me. We wound up staying there longer than expected, and our families became friends. Over the next couple of years, we stayed in contact with them… until my father passed," Christine explained, not getting into the specifics. She could tell that he was trying to get to know her on a more personal level, but Christine knew that he wanted to keep Raoul out of the conversation as much as possible. Especially after today. "Tell me about this estate we're moving to," she prodded, hoping the change of conversation would cheer Erik up a bit.

"It's been named Thirsfield Place by the original owner, who had to sell it after losing too much money supporting France in the war," Erik told her. "There's a two story manor in the middle of the property with a long driveway to reach it. We'll have a stable for the horses as well as a garden in the backyard for the spring. According to the owner, there's a small pond a ways from the manor. Our remaining three or so acres are just meadow and, once you travel a bit, woods."

Surprised by the size of her new home, Christine reeled with the information. "I had no idea I married into so much money," she said, a jesting hint in her voice.

"If there's something I can guarantee you, it's that you'll want for nothing," Erik responded matter-of-factly. "I saved most of my money for the last three years for that very reason." Christine didn't know what to say when she heard this. She couldn't imagine saving up her money for so long for a mere possibility that someone would be with her. And yet Erik had done so, wanting nothing more than for her to be comfortable if they were together. Her heart sank a bit as she felt realization wash over her. It had never been an _if_ for Erik; it had been a _when_. Never once had he planned to let her go with someone else. Looking away, Christine realized just how long the rest of their carriage ride was going to be.


	6. Friday, April 14, 1871

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the delay. I just took my last final today, so summer has finally begun! Many thanks to **macymay201**, **Kira**, and **liVe-yOur-fAntasY** for the reviews. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and please leave a review if you have the time!

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For the last week, Christine and Erik had been moving in and getting comfortable in their new manor. Erik had it furnished before they arrived, which included a large piano in the great room for Erik to play, so it merely a matter of putting away their clothes and any other little accessories. Christine had offered several times, but Erik had insisted to put his own things away in their bedroom. Although they shared the bed, something that Erik required of them despite the fact that most high class couples slept separately, they had two separate armoires for their clothing and accessories. As she unpacked, Christine had set her father's photo sat on her nightstand next to her bed with a candle behind it. Every night, she lit the candle and said a prayer to and for her father before going to bed. It was nice to still be able to have his photo.

Once everything was put away, Erik and Christine had a bit of an issue figuring out how to create a home life. Neither of them had been raised in traditional homes, so they struggled setting up a day-to-day schedule. Not only that, but Christine had to cook for the first time in her life; she had just eaten prepared meals at the opera house before then. The first night had been an embarrassing fiasco. Luckily for her, Erik had just forced a smile on his face and asked for seconds. She begged him to hire a cook after the third night, but he refused. He wanted to remain as separated from the population as possible, which meant not hiring any servants and hardly ever going into town.

Although it had only been just over a week, Christine felt as if she had been living in the manor for years. They managed to get along for the most part, but a new struggled emerged for them to argue about nearly every day. Their arguments never escaladed out of control, and Erik almost never raised his voice to her anymore, only saving such a reaction for when he was utterly through with whatever they were speaking about. In the end, he always had the final word, which he expected his wife to respect. And Christine did respect him. As his wife, she had no other choice in the matter. After each dispute, Erik would then sit down in the front of the piano and request for Christine to sing for him as he played. He always played melodies she would know – either ones from previous musicals or ones she learned while listening to him as a child. By the end of the song, though, Christine always found that she was relaxed. Something about singing just soothed her soul, and she felt refreshed and able to continue her life with her new husband.

But not everything was so easy to wipe away. A day didn't pass when Christine didn't think about Raoul. However, her reactions to his memories did. Sometimes, she wanted nothing more than to go running back into his arms. She wanted him to hold her and keep her safe from all the horrors and burdens of the world. She wanted to bask in the brilliance of their mutual love. Other times, though, she was completely convinced that it was better for her to have married Erik instead. She and Raoul had very little in common, after all, and she was not of proper standing to marry him. She recalled the way his older brother had mocked her as well as how uncomfortable she felt around the parents once her relationship with Raoul had become more serious. Although it hadn't mattered to Raoul, Christine knew that his parents didn't entirely approve of her. At that time, though, she hadn't cared either; Raoul had loved her, and that's all that had mattered.

It was during one of those haunting memories of Raoul – of the life she could have had but never would – that Christine heard something she hadn't heard since she came to Thirsfield Manor: a rapping on the front door. Besides Erik, she hadn't even so much as glimpsed another human being since arriving. She glanced back to see Erik working the garden, preparing it for planting. Without saying a word, she turned and went to answer the door. Standing on the other side was a messenger with a letter in his hand.

"I have a message for the Lord and Lady of the house," he stated.

Surprised, Christine answered in a soft voice, "I am the Lady of the house."

"My dear Madame, my master – Lord Isaac Bouchard – would like to call upon you this evening on the seventh hour just after suppertime to Rosethorn Hall. He extends this invitation to the Lord of the house as well, and he hopes that you will accept despite the short notice," the messenger informed her.

Christine didn't know what to say at first. She had never been treated so formally in her entire life, and she didn't know how to act like a lady besides in an opera. "Thank your kind Lord for us, good sir, and tell him that we gratefully accept his invitation," she responded.

"We will be expecting you then," the messenger told her with an acknowledging nod.

Just as he turned away, Christine called out, "Moment, good sir!" He turned back to face her, and she felt her face heat up in embarrassment. "I'm afraid we're quite new here. I'm not entirely sure we know where Rosethorn Hall is."

"It's about five kilometers to the north of here. If you turn right out of your estate, you should be able to follow the road to find it," the messenger informed her before hopping on his horse. "My Lord and Lady are eager to meet you, Madame!" He then galloped off without another word.

Closing the door, Christine turned and wondered how she was going to tell Erik. After all, it was bound to end in a dispute. She walked to the back of the manor, opening the door and stepping out into the sunlight and fresh air. Despite the fact that her arrival was announced by the door shutting behind her, Erik made no notion to acknowledge her presence. His eyes stayed locked solely on the garden before him. For a long minute, she just watched him work. She finally cleared her voice and said, "We were just issued an invitations by our neighbors to meet them after supper tonight."

"Then refuse it," Erik told her without hesitating.

Christine shifted uncomfortably. "I cannot for I have already accepted it," she muttered, half-hoping he wouldn't hear her.

Still, Erik slowly turned around to face her. His blue eyes were flashing, and they captured her own in their mesmerizing gaze. "You accepted? Without speaking to me first?" he inquired. His tone danced between being angry and incredulous.

"Please, Erik, just listen to me," Christine begged. "If you just listen then you'll understand why I did the opposite of what I knew you wanted."

Erik responded, "You have my undivided attention."

"The Bouchards are our closest neighbors. If anything would happen, we would have to go to them for help. Wouldn't it be better if we had a good friendship with them than none at all? Besides, it's considered rude in this society to turn down such an invitation without a proper excuse. Had I just refused, they would have taken offense. And lastly – and this is the most important thing for you to remember – if we were to refuse their offer, we would draw attention to ourselves. Everyone would wonder about the new couple in town, and why they refuse to meet anyone. We would be considered suspicious. That is why we have to accept their invitation tonight," Christine explained. Erik didn't look as if he was going to fight this battle. It was probably because he realized she was right. "We don't have to stay there overnight. It'll only be for a few hours, and then I can mention how faint I'm feeling, and we should probably go." Christine paused for a moment. "And it would do you some good to start making some friends."

Erik took off his gardening gloves and dropped them to the ground. Then, he walked over and gently held Christine's face in his hands before kissing her gently on the forehead. "You're the only person I've ever needed in my life," he said to her, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"Erik," Christine murmured, hoping he would understand, "I need this. I've lost almost everyone important in my life – my mother, my father, Madame Giry, Meg…" Her voice trailed, and she purposefully left Raoul out of the listing. "I've never learned how to live while only having contact with one person. I know you're scared, and I know you haven't had much good experience in the world, but please, Erik, say you'll come with me tonight."

After a moment's pause, Erik replied, "Christine, I have a short temper, and I don't take well to being insulted. I have only seen prejudice and misunderstanding when people saw my face. We both know this well enough. I doubt I'll ever be truly comfortable in social situations, and I have a tendency to only see the worst in most people. For you, however, I will try to make their proper acquaintance." He removed his hands from her face and bent down to pick up his gloves. As he put them back on, he said, "But the moment the conversation begins to turn sour – the moment they start prying where they should stay away from, we are leaving. Am I understood?"

"Completely!" Christine exclaimed before flinging herself into his arms with joy. She couldn't believe that he had given into her wish without even a fight. Quickly, Erik caught her and held her for a moment. Her moment of pure bliss ended, though, as the action of Erik lifting her off her feet in order to position her better pulled an entirely different memory to mind. Raoul's face seared into Christine's mind once more. Her smile faltered somewhat, but she hugged Erik all the same. "Thank you so much," she finally managed before pulling away. "We'll have to leave after supper." Without another word, she slipped back into the manor.

Scolding herself, Christine knew there was no reason for her to linger on Raoul any longer. She was married – she had moved away from the Opera Populaire – there was, in fact, no Opera Populaire to return to – her marriage with Erik was, all things considered, going well. But Raoul was still haunting her, almost like how the Phantom had when she had been with Raoul. Almost, but not exactly the same. Not wanting to linger on her thoughts any longer, Christine shoved Raoul to the back of her mind as she started to make supper. Her cooking skills had improved but she still wished that Erik would concede on hiring a cook. Even so, she knew there was no chance he would.

Before she knew it, Christine was waiting impatiently as Erik saddled up one of the horses for her. He had his black mare, Jolie, brought up from Paris brought up sometime during the week; in the meantime, though, he bought a young black stallion that had come with the name Diable. "How comfortable are you riding alone?" Erik inquired.

"I learned how to ride when I was little," Christine told him. "I haven't ridden in a while, but I suppose it shouldn't be too hard to pick back up."

Nodding, Erik held the horse's bridle as Christine stepped into the stirrup. Twisting herself around, she rested herself sidesaddle and took the reigns from Erik. Christine hated riding sidesaddle, finding it a more difficult position to ride in. However, she knew that society demanded for her to be "proper," and she refused to shame Erik or herself when meeting the Bouchards for the first time. He had already tacked up his horse, so after he made sure the Christine was securely in her saddle, he swung up onto his horse in one flowing movement. Collecting the reigns, he nudged Diable forward. Christine lightly pressed her heels into Jolie's side. Both started down the road. The sun was beginning to set, but they could still see the road perfectly well. Even so, it would be an entirely different story on their way back.

After a couple minutes of riding, Christine could see the manor they were going to. It was massive, even from where they were, and must dwarf their manor, which Christine had considered quite large to begin with. As they neared the estate, Christine began to see the hustle and bustle of the servants and workers running around the estate. It looked so different to see so much life and activity just up the road from their quiet manor. They trotted up the driveway and paused as one of the servants opened the gate to let them in. Once they reached the front of the house, Erik quickly dismounted before handing the stable hand Diable's reigns. He then walked over to Christine and helped her dismount as well. Feet touching the ground, Christine looked up at Erik. Their eyes locked for a long moment, and Christine felt her heart skip a second due to their close proximity.

"Monsieur and Madame de Rouen?" a voice called out, causing them to break their gaze.

Christine found a butler standing next to them. Erik was the one to answer, "We are."

"The Lord and Lady are waiting for you in the parlor room," the butler said. "If you would follow me."

Erik and Christine exchanged glances, but Christine only started forward once she felt Erik's hand press into the small of her back. She started forward, glancing back at him before managing to walk without any assistance. Picking up her dress, she followed the butler up the stairs. She entered the grand foyer and admired it; it reminded her somewhat of the grandeur of the Opera Populaire with its marble floor with the matching white walls. Turning, the butler led them into a side room where there was a large, lit fireplace. In the corner sat a grand piano, and a coffee table with two single chairs and a three-seated sofa. Monsieur Bouchard was a man probably in his late 40s or early 50s. His hair looked like a mixture of salt and pepper, and he had the appearance of a man who had seen plenty of life – wrinkles beginning to show on his sunned skin – and yet still had more to experience before his time on Earth was through. He was sitting in one of the chairs and was reading a book. Meanwhile, Madame Bouchard embroidered while sitting on one edge of the sofa. The Madame appeared to be in her 40s, and her auburn hair was pulled tightly back into a bun. Almost immediately Christine noticed the telling lump in her stomach of a child on the way.

The butler announced, "Monsieur and Madame de Rouen."

Both Monsieur and Madame Bouchard quickly rose to their feet, although it took Madame Bouchard a bit longer than normal to get on her feet. Erik stepped forward and bowed; Christine stood just behind him and curtsied. The Bouchards responded accordingly, but both of their gazes remained locked on Erik's mask a little longer than normal. Erik stiffened, which signaled to Christine that he had also noticed their lingering gazes. Before she could become too worried, though, Monsieur Bouchard motioned two the open chair and the sofa. "Please, join us! My name is Isaac Bouchard, and this is my wife, Mathilde," he greeted, vaguely gesturing towards his wife. As Christine sat on the sofa and Erik on the other open chair, Monsieur Bouchard continued, "It's a pleasure to finally meet our new neighbors!"

"We've been eager to meet you since you've moved in. Your place was so quiet, though, we weren't entirely sure anyone lived there yet," Madame Bouchard exclaimed. She turned towards Christine and continued, "And our messenger said that you answered the door, Madame de Rouen! Haven't you any servants to do that for you yet?"

Startled by Madame Bouchard's frank audacity, Christine wasn't sure how to answer her, especially since she was implying an insult. Erik cleared his voice before saying, "Actually, we inherited the estate and money from my recently deceased uncle. Since he had no children, he left me everything. We decided to move in after we found out about the estate." He looked over at Monsieur Bouchard. "Until recently, we were self-made people, and we just don't feel comfortable yet having servants working around the house. Perhaps sometime in the future, though, we'll hire someone to help us around the manor."

Christine was surprised by how well Erik had handled the situation. But she also felt her heart sank as the lies began so soon after meeting their neighbors. No one would be able to know them for who they really were – especially since they had to stay low so no one in Paris heard even a whisper about them. All too soon, she was going to have to have an entirely new past, which she would have to remember perfectly so she didn't bring any attention to herself.

"I'm sorry to hear about your loss," Monsieur Bouchard offered, nodding his head sympathetically.

Erik responded, "I appreciate it. The only good thing that came of it was that it really couldn't have happened at a better time. Christine and I have gotten married fairly recently, and we needed somewhere to move to that would be suitable for the both of us."

"Where did you live before?" Madame Bouchard inquired curiously.

Looking at the Madame, Erik responded, "We lived in Paris."

"Oh, Paris!" she exclaimed, sounding as if she was about to faint. "I simply adore Paris. Isaac and I normally go at least once a month. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to travel for a while because of this little one." She rubbed her stomach as she spoke. Suddenly, her eyes became bright. "Oh, but have you heard what happened to the Opera Populaire?" she asked, looking eagerly between the two.

Quickly, both Christine and Erik exchanged looks. "I'm afraid not," Erik lied smoothly. "We haven't heard any news from Paris since we left."

"Well," the Madame began, before pausing. "Oh, I'm sorry. Have either of you ever been to the Opera Populaire?"

Christine was once again surprised by the rudeness this high-class lady was showing them. Never before had she met a woman who was so open with her judgment of people of lower class. Chuckling under his breath, Erik coldly told her, "I think you would be surprised, Madame, just how often Christine and I were at the Opera Populaire. We don't find the need to flaunt our status in the faces of others, because we find that being humble of our status is much more becoming than being arrogant because of it."

Madame Bouchard's eyes widen, and Christine's jaw dropped as she heard Erik's swift and just as offending retort. She couldn't believe just how quick Erik was able to be when placed in such a situation. On the other hand, Monsieur Bouchard laughed. "Would you like to try some of our wine? We make it at our vineyard, and it's of the highest of quality you can find in France."

Nodding, Erik said, "We would be honored."

"For the Madame as well?" Monsieur Bouchard clarified, directing the question to Erik and not Christine. It threw her off for a moment to not be asked herself, but she guessed it was just something she would have to get used to since she was a married woman now.

Glancing over at Christine, Erik paused a moment before saying, "Yes, but only a little."

"Very well. Is white wine alright?" Monsieur Bouchard inquired.

Erik nodded. "Preferred, actually," he said.

"Pierre!" Monsieur Bouchard called out. The butler quickly appeared in the room. "Please grab one of the Chardonnays from '66, could you?" The butler nodded before disappearing from the room.

Having collected herself, Madame Bouchard said, "I cannot believe that you haven't heard what's happened at the Opera Populaire, though. It was all over the newspapers for some time. I swear, Isaac, the moment we can't go into Paris is the moment everything exciting happens."

"I believe we have enough excitement where we live," Monsieur Bouchard told her.

Madame Bouchard ignored him and leaned in close to Christine. Her voice dropped a bit as she said, "Rumor has it that there was a chorus girl who worked at the opera house. She was the obsession of the Opera Ghost, which has been an Opera Populaire rumor for the last three years or so. In any case, this chorus girl also managed to catch the eye of a certain _vicomte_. It's said that the Opera Ghost became extremely jealous of the pair; so during the last opera, he kidnapped the chorus girl in front of an entire audience! He cut down the chandelier and dropped into the catacombs of the opera house with her, and they haven't been seen since. Can you imagine? Who knows where the poor girl is now! I can only imagine how horrifying it was."

Erik was erect in his seat, every muscle tense. Monsieur Bouchard said, "But now isn't the time for ghost stories, my dear. We invited our guests here to get to know them, not to make them feel uncomfortable." Just then, the butler entered the room with a tray, four glasses, and a bottle of wine. "Perfect timing, Pierre. As always!" he complimented. Nodding in acknowledgement, Pierre handed both Monsieur Bouchard and Erik a glass before setting the tray on the coffee table. He uncorked the bottle and poured both of them a little bit of wine. After both tried and approved, the butler filled their glasses halfway before filling and handing the ladies their glasses.

Just as Christine brought the glass to her lips, Madame Bouchard asked, "So, Monsieur de Rouen, may I inquired as to why you wear a mask?"

Christine choked on her wine, and Erik swiftly rose to his feet. Setting the glass down on the table, he said, "We thank you for your hospitality. Christine, we're leaving."

"Monsieur de Rouen!" Monsieur Bouchard called out. "I apologize for my wife. Unfortunately, she doesn't always know where she shouldn't pry."

Thinking quickly, Christine knew how to turn the entire situation around. A story came to mind – a story that somehow seemed almost real to her. It would at least be believable. "Do not worry, Monsieur Bouchard. Erik is just trying to protect my pride. It's my fault he has to wear the mask," she stated. Clearly surprised, Erik turned and faced Christine. It was her turn to take the brunt of the conversation now. "Before we were together, there was a fire in the building where I slept. I froze up when I realized what was happening. Erik rescued me from the fire, but in the process, he wound up getting burned. I'm the reason his face is marred, and I've felt terrible about it ever since." Christine looked over at Erik to see him completely astonished by her tale. Then she averted her eyes so they would think she was humiliated by the truth.

Quickly, Erik added, "For obvious reasons, though, we don't like to talk about it."

"I apologize for bringing up such a sensitive subject," Madame Bouchard said, bowing her head in shame. "Curiosity sometimes gets the better of me."

Christine shook her head. "It's quite alright. We haven't had to talk about it in a while, and it's an honest curiosity. But we ask that you keep this under complete discretion. "

"But of course, my dear," the Madame responded. But that glint in her eye told Christine another story. Truth be told, Christine wanted word to get around town. If they thought one story was true, they would never make any connection to the other.

Nodding towards Madame Bouchard, Christine inquired, "How far along are you?"

"Almost seven months!" Madame Bouchard told her happily. She rubbed her stomach once more. "This'll be our third child, and I hope our first daughter."

Christine smiled sweetly as she pressed, "How old are your two sons?"

"Richard, our oldest, is turning 14 next month. Maurice is 10," Monsieur Bouchard told them proudly. His chest was puffed out a bit, and he held his chin a little higher. "This one was quite a surprise, but we're blessed to be having this little angel."

Madame Bouchard looked over at Christine eagerly. "Are you already eager to become a mother?" she asked, leaning forward a bit.

"Erik and I agreed that now would not be an appropriate time to have a child," Christine explained. The truth was that Erik hadn't touched her like that since their wedding night. Part of her wondered if she had done something wrong. "After all, we just recently married and moved here. Besides, there's still plenty of time for children in our future."

Madame Bouchard nodded approvingly. "Naturally, my dear, naturally! And just know that if you ever need any advice, you may always come to me. I can tell you of ways to ensure you have a baby boy or girl depending on your wish, my dear."

Christine murmured her thanks to the Madame for the gesture, although it made her feel awkward to talk about her sex life with someone she barely knew. Meanwhile, Monsieur Bouchard had engaged Erik in a different conversation. Christine turned her attention to hear, "… and quite a handsome wife you have there, good sir."

Flushing, Christine bowed her head in embarrassment at the blatant praise. Since she was raised in the Opera House, she had always been surrounded by other women, some of whom were considered prettier than her. The _Prima Donna_ always held the spotlight, so she never received much praise for her beauty before. "I know, Monsieur," Erik responded. "I never thought it possible for me to have such a loyal, beautiful wife. Her compassion knows no bounds; I'm sure you'll come to see that."

"Erik, I'm feeling rather faint," Christine murmured, her face still burning.

Swiftly, Erik rose to his feet. "I'm sorry to call the evening short, but if my wife needs to get home then I am obligated to do so. Thank you so much for your hospitality. It was very kind of you to invite us."

Monsieur Bouchard stood up as he heard this. "Thank you so much for visiting! It is nice to have neighbors again," he said, shaking Erik's hand. He then called out, "Pierre!" The butler arrived in but a moment, and he was ordered to escort them out.

"You should come for supper sometime!" Madame Bouchard exclaimed as Christine rose from her seat. "There's still so much to talk about. How about you come next Friday?"

Erik smiled at her and responded, "We would be honored. Thank you for the invitation."

"Then please come at half past the fifth hour," Madame Bouchard told them. "We'll have a feast in your honor."

Tilting his head in acknowledgement, Erik stated, "We will definitely be there. Now, please excuse us."

"Follow me, Monsieur… Madame," Pierre requested, leading them out of the room and to the front of the manor.

Diable and Jolie were waiting for them already. After Christine was mounted, Erik hopped up onto Diable's saddle and started down the driveway. It was dark out with only the moonlight to light their way. Although Christine hadn't ordered her to, Jolie remained very close to Diable. In Paris, Christine hadn't minded traveling at night because all the streets were lit. In the countryside, though, there was nothing but darkness and shadows.

Out of the blue, Erik said, "Well, that went better than I expected."

"The Madame is quite a curious person, don't you agree?" Christine commented nonchalantly.

Erik concurred, "More curious than a cat with only one life left. But they both seem good-hearted enough. I'm actually looking forward to our dinner next week."

"You're only saying that because you won't have to eat my awful cooking that day," Christine jested.

Without missing a beat, Erik pointed out, "I have never once said that your cooking is awful."

"You don't have to say it," Christine counted. "I can also taste things. I know just how terrible my cooking is."

Erik told her, "It'll improve with practice." This simple sentence told Christine that he wasn't going to go back yet on his order that they not hire a cook or servants.

Silenced, Christine just concentrated on riding for the remainder of their travels. All too quickly, they approached their home. In front of the house, Erik dismounted before helping Christine down. He then took the horses into the stables in order to remove their tack and to care for them before bed. Meanwhile, Christine headed into the manor and prepared herself for bed. Just as she was finishing up, Erik entered the house. Christine lit a candle for her father, prayed for a moment, and then blew the flame out. She didn't want to risk setting the house on fire in the middle of the night after all. Just as she had just gotten comfortable, Erik slipped into bed next to her. Abruptly, Christine felt two arms wrap around her and pull her into a strong body. She was surprised by the action since Erik normally didn't use so much force with her. Instead, he had a tendency to pet her hair or to slowly slide up against her. Something was different tonight, though she didn't know what.

"I thought you had forgotten," he whispered, shifting her hair so he could rest his chin atop her head.

Confused, Christine asked, "That I had forgotten what?"

"The fire from nearly four years ago," Erik responded.

Thinking back, Christine remembered the fire Erik was talking about. She had been 17 years old at the time when the girls' dormitory had caught on fire. Although she remembered very little about the incident, she knew that she had been in the building that night and had somehow escaped. They rebuilt that part of the building in order to make it more secure, and it wasn't too long after that that the Phantom of the Opera began playing a bigger role in the opera house. "I don't remember that night," Christine confessed.

"But your story…" Erik began before letting his voice trail off.

Rolling over to face him, Christine said, "Then tell me about it, Erik. Remind me about what I've forgotten." She was interested to know what about that night was so important.

There was a moment of silence before Erik began, "For years, the girls' dormitory had needed to be renovated. Although Madame Giry, on my behest, sent several notes to the owner at the time, he didn't want to spend the money required to renovate the dormitory. Madame Giry and I knew it was only a matter of time before something went horribly wrong. All we could hope for, though, was that no one would be hurt." He paused again, shifting a bit to rewrap his arm around Christine. Her head was resting on his chest as she gazed up at him, engrossed in his story. "I still remember that night. It was one of the worst thunderstorms Paris had experienced in a long time. The thick black clouds had changed day into night in the matter of minutes. The wind howled angrily as the rain beat down on everything. And then the lightning struck. I was in the catacombs and heard the roar of thunder. Even the ground underneath me shook in its wake. I knew something close had to have been struck, so I quickly went out onto the streets to see what. It was raining so hard, I didn't notice the flames at first. But I heard the horrified screams, so I hurried over there. That's when I realized that the girls' dormitory had caught on fire."

As Erik told his story, Christine felt pieces of her memory come forward. During that time, they had been working long hours to learn the new choreography for a play. She had been so tired that she decided to take a nap before the storm started. That crack of thunder, though, had startled her awake. At first, she had been confused. When she realized it was storming, though, she didn't think anything of it. Instead, she laid back down to sleep. After a couple seconds, though, she heard some petrified screams and unintelligible words.

Erik's next words cut into her thoughts. "I stayed in the shadows as I watched people evacuate the building. The women were screaming as the men rushed around to somehow stop the fire. Had it not been raining so hard, I guess there would have been more damage. But I digress. After scanning the crowd for familiar faces, I found Madame Giry standing outside the burning building. Her daughter was standing next to her, taking shelter underneath her cloak. As soon as I saw her, though, I knew something was wrong. Her face was ashen, and she looked at me with wide eyes. Through the rain, I was only able to read one word she mouthed: 'Christine.' By the look on her face, I knew you must be trapped inside."

That was right. By the time Christine had realized what was wrong, it was already too late. She remembered all too clearly that sinking feeling she had as she realized the only exit to safety was blocked by fire. At first, she thought that maybe she could just move through the flames, but the heat repelled her from trying too hard to escape. In no time, the flames had spread up one of the walls, eating away at the wood. Panic had taken over her entire body, and she had froze up. At that very moment, she thought that she was going to die.

"I have never felt so much dread in my entire life," Erik told her. Christine looked up at him to find him staring into the distance. "It felt as if a block of ice had lodged itself into my stomach, and all I could think about was how I couldn't let you die in there." Suddenly, Erik laughed. "I don't think I've ever run so quickly in my entire life. But it felt like an eternity before I managed to get to the catacombs. It was even longer before I had managed to weave my way to where the girl's dormitory was. When I emerged from the catacombs, I could barely see anything because of the smoke. I called out for you, but you didn't respond. At first, I thought I had been too late. When I went into the bedroom, though, I found you sitting in the middle of the floor and staring at the flames blocking the door. You didn't seem to notice me at first."

Christine remembered not being able to see a lot; the smoke had made her eyes water so much. This had her even more panicked since she couldn't see where to go. And then she remembered; she remembered a dark figure appearing out of nowhere. Although she couldn't remember what he said, his voice had been soothing and familiar to her.

"I told you that everything would be alright, and I picked you up from the ground," Erik continued. "And you just clung to me. Without even questioning anything, you just trusted yourself to me."

Christine had. When she had felt those two strong arms lift her up, she had realized she would be safe. Without thinking, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and had buried her face in his chest. He had brought her a sense of protection even though she had no idea who he was. It was the first time she had ever felt completely safe since her father had died. But then she couldn't remember anything else from that night.

"I carried you through the catacombs and out to the streets. By then, it had stopped raining, but they were just beginning to control the flames. Madame Giry was waiting where she had been before. When she saw me in the shadows of the alley with you in my arms, she hurried over. At some point during our travels, though, you wound up passing out against me. Madame Giry led me to where she would be staying that night, and I set you down on the bed. The next day, she told me that you didn't seem to remember anything from that night," Erik informed her.

Pausing, Christine vaguely remembered the next morning. When she woke up, she had no recollection of the previous day. She had been astonished when she found out that the girls' dormitory had burned down. And then everyone started asking her how she managed to escape. Christine had had no idea; they explained to her that she had been trapped inside, but then she had suddenly appeared at the hotel completely unharmed. Madame Giry had merely commented about how Christine must have an angel watching over her. Since then, though, Christine had just let the memory slip from her mind. Eyes closed, Christine didn't know how to feel about the revelation.

"It was then that I fell in love with you, you know," Erik suddenly confessed after several minutes of silence. His voice was very quiet. Surprised, Christine didn't move, figuring that he believed for her to be sleeping. "I had cared about you before then, of course. But when you just wrapped your arms around me and trusted me with everything, I was moved. I had never met someone so trusting and comfortable around me before. And I knew that if you couldn't come to love me then no one would." He paused for a moment before continuing, "It was also the day I decided the Opera Ghost needed to emerge from the shadows and act. I made the Opera Populaire fear me in order to guarantee your safety and success. I did it all for you." He gently caressed her arm, and Christine instinctively relaxed in his arms before falling asleep.


	7. Friday, April 21, 1871

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the delay. I was on vacation last week to the Dominican Republic, and the hotel there restricted your internet usage in hopes that you would fork out more money. Thank you all for being so patient and understanding. Once again, a special thanks goes to: **macymay201, Alana Fox, login password, **and **dracowillbeloved** for the lovely reviews! Enjoy!

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"The dinner was simply exquisite. You have a wonderful cook," Christine complimented. It had been the best meal she had ever had, which included a couple of dinners at the de Chagny estate.

Madame Bouchard smiled and responded, "Our cook has been professionally trained in Paris and can cook anything you request. We were very specific with the qualifications necessary for us to hire someone. No one here is without qualifications, you know. Being of our high status, we must have standards even in the most trivial of positions."

"Naturally," Christine responded without really meaning what she said.

By now, Christine was very familiar with Madame Bouchard's personality and no longer bothered by it. Madame Bouchard was a proud woman who had an ear for any and all gossip and had proven that when she had the entire town buzzing about the story behind Erik's mask in the matter of days. By the end of the week, everyone knew theoretically what lied underneath the mask, and they had begun to stop staring at Erik when he and Christine went into town for errands. They had come to accept him as a hero for his deformation – not a monster. Although Erik never commented on it, Christine knew that he noticed it as well. He was becoming regarded as normal even with the mask on.

Suddenly, Monsieur Bouchard grabbed her attention. "… heard today from one of the workers that you noticed a flaw in the aqueducts being designed. Did you work construction while in Paris?"

"I had several jobs in Paris," Erik explained. These white lies had become quite normal for the two of them, and Christine didn't even blink an eye anymore when a new one appeared. "Architecture was one of my pastimes. I enjoyed designing and came to understand how to construct numerous structures. It was merely by chance that I noticed the flaw. By no means am I a master architect."

Monsieur Bouchard intervened, "Even so, many of the men would like for you to work with them on the aqueducts. They were hoping you could take over the project since none of them actually know what they're doing. Our previous master architect passed away, you see, with no one to succeed to his position, so many of his apprentices have been fighting for the position to no avail. Each man has a different idea of what the aqueducts should look like, and they're all much too arrogant to put aside their differences. If they did so, they view it as losing the chance to be master architect, because the designer of these aqueducts will most likely earn the position. However, we need these aqueducts fixed before storm season rolls around, which it is bound to soon. Our current ones are on their last legs, and we fear they won't hold up for another season."

Shaking his head, Erik responded, "I'm not qualified to lead such a project, good monsieur."

"You're the only man who can lead this project," Monsieur Bouchard countered. His strong voice reflected his confidence in that statement. "The apprentices of the previous master architect have split the workforce completely, forcing each worker to choose a side to be on. All the workers do now is hope they chose the right person to follow. Under one strong man, though, the workers would fall in line as well as the power-hungry apprentices. You already have the respect of the town, monsieur, because of your sharp eye and wit, and I would vouch for you every step of the way. No one would dare object if you took up the position."

Clearly still unsure, Erik lifted his wine glass to his lips in order to take a sip. It was a good tactic to stall for time. Meanwhile, Christine couldn't help but notice just how great of an opportunity this would be for Erik. By working with the people of Soissons, he would become a pillar of the community. He would start forging more friendships and making more connections with others. And he would be forced to learn and use social etiquette instead of his normal manhandling in order to get what he wanted. And he was passing this wonderful opportunity right up! "If I may," she began, politely inserting herself into the conversation, "I believe it's a marvelous idea." She made eye contact with Erik and offered him a small smile of encouragement.

"It's settled then," Erik finally said, placing down his glass. His eyes held hers a moment longer before he turned to face Monsieur Bouchard again. "If there is no objection, I will take lead on this project. However, I will only promise to work this one. I am by no means taking the position of master architect."

Smiling broadly, Monsieur Bouchard slapped his knee and exclaimed, "Outstanding! I'm glad to hear it. We'll go into town tomorrow and get everything organized for Monday."

"Shall we move into the parlor room?" Madame Bouchard inquired, cutting into the conversation. Dinner was done, and the servants needed to clean up the dining room.

Monsieur Bouchard rose to his feet. "I believe we shall!" he responded, drinking the last of his wine. Slowly, Erik stood up and set his napkin on the table.

Christine also rose to her feet at Madame Bouchard's bequest, and she was ushered into the parlor room. Her eyes rested on the piano for a second too long. "Can you play the pianoforte?" the Madame inquired, her eyes glittering.

"I'm afraid not. Only Erik can play," Christine responded truthfully. "My talents lie elsewhere."

Turning on her heels, Madame Bouchard boisterously said, "Madame de Rouen just told me that you can play the pianoforte, monsieur. Would you mind entertaining us for a bit?"

"Not at all," Erik answered, nodding his head and smiling. Christine couldn't help but notice how he had become much more comfortable in social situations over the last week. It was astounding the changes she was seeing in him. In all honesty, it was as if a burden had been lifted off him. Because people treated him differently here, he was a different man. Christine couldn't believe she had never seen this side of him before. Suddenly, she noticed his smile become mischievous. "But only if my lovely wife would care to sing for us as well."

Surprised, Christine laughed as she heard this. She hadn't sung for an audience since– Stopping herself, she pushed back that memory from surfacing, and her laugh faded. It didn't matter when she had last sang. All she knew is that it felt like it had been forever. Finally, she answered, "I would be honored to sing."

Walking over to the piano, Erik sat down. "What shall I play for you, my dear?" he asked Christine, looking over at her.

"_Faust_ would be well known enough, don't you agree?" she asked.

Erik nodded. "Marguerite's aria from Act Three?" he clarified, his hands hovering over the keyboard.

As soon as Christine gave him the affirmative nod, he began playing the song from memory. It didn't surprise Christine that he could. After all, _Faust_ had been performed so many times at the Opera Populaire that she could sing the aria without ever having played the role of Marguerite. Christine began singing, her voice ringing back to her and surrounding everyone in the room. Flawlessly, she hit the high notes, used vibrato during the parts she felt it was needed, and never missed a note. Both Monsieur and Madame Bouchard sat with their mouths open as they listened to her sing and Erik play. Clearly, they had not been expecting for such a performance. Her final note reverberated off the walls and echoed in the room just before Erik played the final keys. As soon as the song was over, both Monsieur and Madame Bouchard began clapping their hands. Flushing, Christine curtsied. She had forgotten just how rewarding it was to be praised and acknowledged for her ability to sing.

"Your singing is seraphic!" Monsieur Bouchard exclaimed.

Madame Bouchard demanded, "You must sing for us once more."

Upon their behest, Christine sang again… and again… and again. She allowed herself to be drawn into the song just like old times. At points, she forgot even where she was. All she could hear was Erik's playing and her own voice. As she was in the middle of her fourth song, though, a boom of thunder broke her concentration. Startled, Christine stopped singing and glanced back at Erik to find him on his feet. Monsieur Bouchard also leapt up and called out to his servants. Three of them appeared in the doorway upon hearing the summons.

"Where are my sons?" he demanded to know.

Pierre was the first to respond. "In their bedrooms, my lord."

"And the horses?" Erik intervened, just stepping next to Monsieur Bouchard.

"In the stables," Pierre informed him. "Several stable hands are running about and securing the stables and stalls."

Erik said, "I was told by the previous owner that Diable has a tendency to be skittish during storms. Take extra precaution while around him."

"I will inform the stable hands immediately, monsieur," Pierre stated as he nodded his head. Then he turned to Monsieur Bouchard. "Is there anything else, my lord?"

After a moment's hesitation, he replied, "Prepare the master suite. I'm afraid that Monsieur and Madame de Rouen will have to stay the night tonight."

"Very well, my lord," Pierre acknowledged before quickly walking away.

"I thank you, Monsieur Bouchard," Erik stated, making the older male turn to face him. Christine stood just behind her husband, so he turned slightly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We will leave as soon as the storm lets up."

Madame Bouchard quickly intruded, "It's no trouble at all, my dears! And you simply must stay for breakfast. After all, it's been too long since we had any guests. Isn't that right, Isaac?"

"That's quite right, Mathilde," Monsieur Bouchard concurred.

Christine smiled softly and said, "We are very grateful."

Suddenly, Pierre appeared in the doorway once more. "The suite has been prepared," he announced.

"I believe it wise for us to settle in for the night," Erik stated, looking down at Christine.

Monsieur Bouchard nodded in agreement. "Pierre will escort you to your room. Breakfast will be at seven if that is agreeable with you," he responded.

"Very much so," Erik said. "Thank you for your hospitality and good night."

"Good night," Christine said to the Bouchards as she and Erik slipped out of the room.

They followed Pierre up the staircase and down the hall. Stopping outside one door, Pierre turned to them. "This is your room, Monsieur de Rouen," he said.

"My room?" Erik echoed.

Nodding, Pierre explained, "The master suite consists of two bedrooms separated by a bathroom. Your bedroom, monsieur, is through this door. The Madame's bedroom will be through the door just down the hall."

Christine straightened up as she realized she would be in her own bed tonight. She hadn't truly slept alone since they had married, and it felt as if it had been an eternity. All of the sudden, Erik's voice drifted into her thoughts. "Very well. Thank you, good monsieur, and good night," he said, opening the door and closing it behind him.

Pierre took five steps, which required seven steps for Christine, before making it to the next door. Opening it for her, Pierre bade her good night as she stepped into the room before closing the door behind her. Christine looked about the room in admiration. Its warm tones were soothing and complimented the dark mahogany wood. The bed was as large as the one she and Erik slept at home. Flopping onto the bed, Christine let out a long sigh as she buried her face into one of the pillows. A rapping on her chamber door, though, made her shoot out of the bed in an instant.

"Come in," she called out, wondering who it could possibly be.

Very slowly, the door opened to reveal a small maid standing on the other side. "I'm here to help you, Madame," she said in a timid voice.

"I could use some help getting out of this dress," Christine stated, giving her a friendly smile.

Without saying another word, the maid slipped into the chambers and began to unlace Christine. As soon as her dress fell to the ground, Christine let out a large breath and relaxed. One of the best parts of her day was getting out of whatever dress she had been squeezed into earlier that day. The maid collected the dress from the ground and folded it before placing it on the table in the room. After making sure there was nothing else she could do, the maid showed Christine where the servant bell was before leaving. Christine headed for bed, wanting nothing more than to sleep for the next three days. For some reason, Christine found socializing quite draining. After galas, she was exhausted and would sometimes sleep fourteen hours straight. Once, Madame Giry thought Christine had died because she slept so long.

Relaxing in her bed, Christine shifted to become comfortable. She only remained comfortable for a minute or so, though, before she felt the need to shift again. Restless, she tossed and she turned, but no matter what, something always felt off. Christine opened her eyes and was exasperated. Despite the fact that she was dead on her feet, she couldn't sleep. It wasn't the bed for it was comfortable and large. The temperature of the room was just right. The storm, although still raging, wasn't so loud that it kept her awake. Nothing was wrong. Suddenly, Christine realized what was off: Erik wasn't there. She had gotten used to and comfortable sleeping with him. In all actuality, it made her feel safer to be with him than alone.

Christine looked at the door that would lead her to Erik's room. Shifting a bit, she wondered if she should go to him. He might have been just as excited to sleep alone for a night. After all, he hadn't objected to sleeping in different beds. On the other hand, Christine knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep without him by her side. She got up, and her feet pattered quietly against the cold, stone floor. Very carefully, she opened the door into the bathroom. The lack of light made her nearly blind, but she managed to find the door on the other side. She opened it slowly and called out in a soft voice, "Erik?"

"What is it?" came a response. Although she couldn't see anything, Christine could hear the rustling of the bed sheets.

"Did I wake you?" she asked nervously.

"Not at all," Erik answered. Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could see a large figure sitting upright in the bed. "Is everything alright?"

For a second, Christine almost lost her nerve. She bucked up, though, and inquired, "Would you mind it terribly if I slept with you tonight?"

"Not at all," came Erik's warm reply.

At hearing this, Christine closed the door behind her and swiftly crossed the room. She clambered into bed next to him, and Erik resituated himself before pulling her close to him. As soon as she felt the physical contact, Christine relaxed completely and closed her eyes. Involuntarily, she placed her arm over his own. After a long moment of silence, Christine asked, "Did I really not wake you up?"

"Not at all," Erik informed her nonchalantly.

After a moment's pause, Christine pressed, "May I inquire as to why you were awake?"

"You may," Erik said.

He didn't respond further after he said that, so Christine let out a small sigh before asking, "Why were you awake?"

"Because I cannot sleep without you next to me," he told her.

Much to her own surprise, Christine felt her heart skip a beat as she heard this. "Why didn't you come to me then?" she queried, wishing she could see his face.

Erik said, "Because you needed to realize that you could not sleep without me by your side either."

Christine became still. She had found his lack of objection strange, but she had never thought that it was part of a plan. He had wanted confirmation that she was becoming attached to him, and it shocked Christine that not only had it worked, but it had forced her to realize her changing feelings for him. As Erik changed, her feelings for him did as well. He wasn't the same man in the catacombs of the opera house anymore. Could it be that she was beginning to truly fall in love with him? She hadn't thought it possible before, but that was before he had become sociable, friendly, and somewhat relaxed. Now, she was starting to see a chance. A question struck her mind, and she asked it without hesitating, "What if I hadn't come? What would you have done?"

"I would have held you just like this tomorrow night when we were in our own bed," he told her matter-of-factly. "And I would have waited for that day when you did need me."

Astonished, Christine took a moment to draw in this new information. She had never known Erik to be a truly patient man. That wasn't to say that he had no patience at all, but his patience had a tendency to wear thin quickly. For Christine, though, he was clearly willing to wait. Whether it be for a night or a fortnight, he was now willing to put in the time. Christine smiled to herself and subconsciously nestled a bit closer to Erik. He was a different man. Closing her eyes, Christine felt him tuck her head underneath his chin. She felt comfortable there, wrapped in his arms, and she fell asleep without a single problem.


	8. Monday, May 22, 1871

**Author's Note: **Once again, I apologize for the delay. My host brother from Germany is here until Monday, and I've had very little time to myself since I've returned from the Dominican Republic. Special thanks go out to **Alana Fox, grace-grace13, luvnikki7, login password, Lola, and nerdyperformer **for the fantastic reviews last chapter. Enjoy!

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After almost living in Thirsfield Place for nearly two months, Christine and Erik found a proper rhythm to their days. Christine would wake up first and go make breakfast. After Erik was dressed, he would join her at the table and eat. Although they always ate breakfast together, they were normally silent in the morning as they were both still waking up. Afterward, Christine would clear the table and clean up the kitchen before preparing Erik his lunch. As she did that, Erik would go out to the stable and tend to the horses before tacking up Diable to ride into town. By the time he came back, Christine had a meal packed for him. He would take it from her, bid her farewell, kiss her on the forehead, and leave.

While Erik was in town working, for his aqueduct project was still in the works, Christine would get ready for the day and do the household chores. After they were done, she would tend to the garden for a bit and hum to herself to pass the time. She would then go in and make herself something to eat from lunch, which would normally entail her adventuring in a new recipe. Because of this, though, her cooking had improved a hundredfold since they came. Afterwards, she would tend to Jolie and go back to gardening until the clock struck five. Then, she would go inside and cook dinner, set the table, plate the meal, and wait for Erik to return home. Then they would spend time together either performing or just talking about their days. On some occasions, they would go visit the Bouchards.

But this day would be different than the others. Christine had just finished eating lunch and was about to head out to tend to Jolie when she heard a frantic pounding on the door. Pausing, Christine looked at the front door. Only Monsieur Bouchard came to the house, and that was only when Erik was home. When she heard the pounding the second time, though, she hurried to the door and opened it. On the other side was a disheveled messenger standing outside her door.

"Madame Bouchard has gone into labor and your presence is requested," the messenger stated.

Christine didn't think. She leapt out of the house, slamming the door shut behind her, and sprinted to the stables. Not even bothering with the tack, she hoisted herself sidesaddle onto Jolie and urged her forward. The messenger had already mounted his horse and was waiting for Christine. Although she knew better, she urged the horse faster without warming it up. Her ride was uncomfortable and insecure, and she fought to stay seated firmly on the horse. As soon as they made it up the driveway, Christine slipped unceremoniously to the ground. She rushed up the stairs, and the doors open just as she reached the top. Clearly frazzled, Monsieur Bouchard was pacing the floor in the grand foyer. As soon as Christine walked in, he headed over to her.

"I'm so glad that you could make it, Madame de Rouen," he stated, reaching out for her hand.

Allowing him to kiss the back of her hand, Christine noticed how sweaty his palms were. "I came as soon as I could," Christine told him, searching for something reassuring to say.

"I thank you," he said. Just then, a loud, painful scream resounded through the house. Monsieur Bouchard pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the sweat on his forehead.

Christine asked, "Where is she?"

"She's upstairs in one of the guest bedrooms," Monsieur Bouchard said. As Christine went to head upstairs, though, he called out, "Wait!"

She froze and looked back at him curiously. "Yes?" she inquired after he paused.

"I was the one that summoned you," Monsieur Bouchard stated. "Truth is that I called you over not to help my wife – she already has a trained midwife and several maids with her. I need someone to talk to, though, as the pregnancy happens. I just-" His voice was cut off by another scream, and he closed his eyes and grimaced in pain. "I can't take the anticipation. If I listen to her scream one more time, I'm going to lose my mind. I had been hoping that Monsieur de Rouen was at home, but I take it that he is working."

Nodding, Christine answered, "He works until five." Another pained scream rang out, and Monsieur Bouchard grimaced as he heard it. "How about we take a walk?" she suggested, feeling sorry for the helpless father.

"A bit of fresh could do me some good," he answered, motioning for Pierre. He looked at the butler and said, "If something happens, find me immediately. We'll remain close to the house."

Pierre gave an affirming nod. "Understood, my lord," he stated before stepping back.

Offering an arm to escort her, Monsieur Bouchard led Christine out through the back door and into the garden out back. All she could see for miles was prairie or woodland. As they began to walk away from the house, Monsieur Bouchard said, "She's a month early."

"I know," Christine stated calmly. She understood the implications of that statement. Many women died in childbirth every year, and there was no telling if Madame Bouchard had pushed her luck too far with this child, especially since she was an older woman.

Monsieur Bouchard rambled, "She went into labor in the wee hours of the morning. Since then, she's just been screaming. It sounds positively horrible and more painful than the previous two births. And she's never been early before. Richard was born the day predicted while Maurice was three days late. But to give birth early surely cannot be a good sign for the mother nor the child. I fear something terrible is going to happen to one or both of them."

"Let us put aside those thoughts for now, good monsieur," Christine coaxed, offering a small smile. "There is nothing we can do but wait. Worrying about the 'what if's is not going to change what happens, so how about we change the subject for a while?" Monsieur Bouchard nodded his head absentmindedly. "How about you tell me how you met Madame Bouchard?"

And so Monsieur Bouchard began talking about how he met his wife when they were children. They were childhood sweethearts for a time before his family moved away. By chance, they met again at a ball years later. The two caught back up on old times, and Monsieur Bouchard popped the question six months later. Of course, Madame Bouchard accepted, and they married. They consummated the marriage, and he began living a much more social lifestyle than he was used to. Madame Bouchard demanded to go to Paris at least once a month, and he obliged because he loved her and would do anything to make her happy. For years, they had a mostly happy marriage, but Madame Bouchard was unable to become pregnant during this time. Finally, they had Richard, named after Monsieur Bouchard's father, and Maurice, named after Madame Bouchard's father, several years later. They hadn't planned on having another child, so they were both surprised to find that she was pregnant once more. Both hoped for a daughter; Madame Bouchard wanted a daughter because she wanted to raise a lady, and Monsieur Bouchard wanted one because his wife wanted a girl.

As Christine listened to his story, she couldn't help but admire his love for his wife. Monsieur Bouchard would give up anything to make his wife happy. Hours passed as he skipped from one memory to another, and Monsieur Bouchard wound up leading Christine back to the house, sitting in the parlor room with her, and having a glass of red wine with some _hors d'œuvres_. Christine listened intently, rarely interrupting with clarifying questions or comments. Although screams could still be heard despite the doors being closed, Monsieur Bouchard seemed to just block them out as he continued talking about his wife. Without them realizing it, the sun had dipped beneath the horizon. Just as Monsieur Bouchard was going to start another story, though, the double doors burst open, and Pierre hurried in.

"My lord," he said breathlessly, "congratulations. You have a beautiful daughter waiting for you upstairs."

Leaping to his feet, Monsieur Bouchard rushed forward only to come to a sudden stop. "I apologize, Madame," he said, turning to face Christine. "I request that you come to my estate only to abandon you once I deem fit. Please, stay the night."

"Thank you, but I simply must get home," Christine answered, rising to her feet.

Monsieur Bouchard nodded and looked over at Pierre. "Make sure she arrives home safely," he ordered. He then backtracked to Christine and gently kissed her hand. "Thank you for giving an old man company during his time of need," he stated.

"There is no need to thank me. Go to your wife, Monsieur, and congratulations," Christine answered him.

With a smile and a nod, Monsieur Bouchard spun on his heels and left the room. Pierre turned to Christine and said, "Madame, I shall have the servants bring your horse around."

"Thank you," Christine said as she headed towards the front of the house.

As they pulled Jolie around, Pierre sharply demanded, "Where is the tack?"

"She didn't have any, sir," a young stable hand responded, cowering before the butler.

Quickly, Christine cut in, "I was in such a rush that I'm afraid I did not tack her up."

"Of course, Madame," Pierre answered, his voice becoming calm. He turned to the stable hands and ordered, "Go tack her up as quickly as possible!"

Christine called out, "No!" The stable hand froze, and Pierre looked over at her expectantly. "I must get home as quickly as possible."

With a nod, Pierre walked down next to the horse. Christine followed him and allowed him to help hoist her onto Jolie's back. A tacked up horse stood behind Jolie, and Pierre quickly mounted before urging it forward. With a slight tap, Christine nudged Jolie into a trot. Without Pierre's torch, Christine would have been completely unable to see where the road was. They trotted the entire way home because of the lack of tack on Jolie. Although neither said a word, the silence wasn't uncomfortable by any means. Christine finally made it to her house to see it completely dark. Confused, she thanked her escort and asked if he could put Jolie in the stable since she worried for her husband. Pierre agreed. After helping Christine down, he led Jolie towards the stable. Meanwhile, Christine headed towards the house.

Opening the side door that led directly into the kitchen, Christine found herself surrounded by darkness. A faint glow came from the parlor room directly across from her. "Erik?" she called out gently, slowly walking to the door. What she found on the other side of the door startled and horrified her. The parlor room lied in ruins: the two chairs were flipped onto their sides and the backs broken in, the mirror that hung in the room was shattered across the ground, one side table was broken in half while the other one was missing a leg. The only things that weren't touched were the large sofa and the coffee table in the middle. Erik was sitting on the large sofa, and his mask sat on the table next to a whiskey bottle and half-filled glass. As his blood-shot blue eyes met hers, Christine knew that he had been crying. Even more worrisome, though, was the fact that he wasn't even trying to cover his deformity. Instinctively, she rushed forward.

"What happened here? Were we robbed?" she asked as she approached him. A sickening feeling washed over her. Kneeling before him, she quickly explained, "Oh, Erik, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think to lock up the house before I left. You see, Madame Bouchard went into labor today, and a messenger came to get me. I was in such a rush that I just left with him without so much as a second thought. Oh, this is all my fault. Was anything valuable taken?"

Just as she asked this, though, Erik cupped her face in his hands and pulled her into a passionate kiss. As his tongue slipped into her mouth, Christine could taste and smell the alcohol. She pushed him back, but he wouldn't let her go so easily. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his lap. Moving her head up, Christine successfully broke the kiss. She sucked in a couple of deep breaths before staring at him curiously, clearly wanting an explanation. It was then she noticed tears were running down his cheeks yet again.

Utterly confused, Christine gently caressed Erik's unmarred cheek and asked, "What's wrong?"

"You're here," Erik whispered, shaking as he tried to hold back the rest of his tears. He ran his hands through her hair, down her shoulders, and grasped her arms firmly. It was an almost painful grip. "I thought you had left me."

Christine was shocked to hear this. "What are you talking about?" she demanded to know.

"I came home to find the horse missing. You nowhere to be found in the house or in the garden. There was no note. No hint as to where you might have gone. I thought that maybe you had gone into town for supplies, but the hours passed without a sign of your return. Then I realized that you might have left me."

Eyes widening, Christine pressed, "Where could I possibly go?"

"To your beloved _vicomte_," he replied, taking Christine completely off guard. She hadn't thought about Raoul in what felt like ages, and she was completely surprised to realize that. What she had thought to be true loved had all but fizzled out in the matter of a month or so. Instead, she found her feelings for Erik were trumping any previous feelings for Raoul. Leaving never crossed her mind anymore.

Looking deep into Erik's eyes, Christine inquired, "Do you know when the last time I thought about Raoul was?"

"No," Erik answered.

She smiled softly. "Neither do I," she told him. Surprised, Erik blinked a few times before gazing deep into her eyes as if to figure out if she was lying. "It's true. I hadn't thought it possible before, to be honest, but it's happening. I won't lie to you. Sometimes, I think about Paris and miss the Opera Populaire. Even so, I'm becoming attached to this town and our neighbors." She paused a moment before continuing, "And this man my husband has become."

"You're lying," Erik stated guardedly.

"Am I?" Christine asked rhetorically. She shook her head. "Maybe you cannot see it yet, Erik, but you've changed. You've become a better man. We've gotten to know one another over this time, and I have come to be ashamed of my actions back in Paris. Had I known you better back then, I wouldn't have reacted the way I did. But you had been so cold… so distant… so mysterious. It's only natural to fear what you don't know or understand, right?" When he didn't answer, Christine went on, "In any case, I'm sorry to have worried you. I should have left a note, but at hearing that Madame Bouchard was in labor, all logical thoughts left my mind. Can you ever forgive me?"

Suddenly, Erik began to laugh bitterly. "Forgive you?" he echoed. Christine was shocked and hurt by the reaction. Upon seeing her expression, he quickly clarified, "After everything I've ever done to you, you're sitting here asking _me_ to forgive _you_." After a moment of silence, Erik asked, "Do you even know what happened to this room?"

"No," she whispered. She was unsure whether she should be scared of him or concerned for him.

Scoffing, Erik looked around the room and answered, "This was all my doing. When I thought you left me, I flew into a rage. I wasn't angry at you, though; I was angry at myself. I was furious with everything I had ever put you through. I was enraged that I had forced you into marrying me. I was disgusted with myself for dragging you out here, away from Paris and your friends. And I was sickened by the fact that I would never have to chance to redeem myself." He paused and took in a shuddering breath. "You told me you had no regrets. I, however, carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. Everything I've ever done to you seems twisted and cruel. I just wanted you to love me, Christine. I wanted you to care for me as I cared about you." With that, he started crying once more.

Christine was taken aback by his reaction. Wanting to soothe him, she reached out only to have him recoil. "Erik," she called out to him.

"And the most horrifying thing – the most frustrating part of it all was that I knew… I knew that I couldn't go after you if you had left. I knew I had to let you go no matter how much I wanted to drag you back. Because I love you enough now, Christine, to just want for you to be happy, no matter where or with whom that might be. I couldn't bring myself to tear you away from it again." Jumping to his feet, he paused as more tears rolled down his cheeks. "Do you understand, Christine? Do you understand what I am saying to you?"

She did. He was telling her that she could go be with Raoul, and he wouldn't stop her from leaving. She could have her life without him if she so choose. But what he didn't understand was that she had already made her choice that fateful night in the catacombs of the opera house. "I do," she told him. "But that changes nothing."

"How could it not change anything?" Erik asked incredulously, beginning to pace the room.

Christine answered, "Because I already made my decision long ago."

"That decision no longer matter, Christine!" Erik nearly yelled at her. He was getting more flustered with every passing minute. "You can go now and be with your beloved _vicomte_, just as it always should have been. I release you from our contract. So go!"

Shaking her head, Christine didn't budge. "That decision is the only one that matters, Erik," she told him calmly. "It's the one I plan to live with for the rest of my life."

"Why do you insist on being so stubborn?" Erik snapped, running his hands through his wig.

Christine responded, "I am not the one being stubborn here! You are." He froze as he heard this. "I have nothing to return to, Erik. I am a wedded woman, sworn before the eyes of God. I cannot simply pick up in Paris where I left off! Besides, I am not the same woman. I cannot see myself being waited on hand and foot. I cannot picture a life of being dependent completely on others to do menial tasks. I cannot fathom how I would spend every day without anything to clean or cook. And I certainly cannot imagine a life without you in it," she confessed, flushing a bit as she said this. "You've somehow made your way into my heart and have replaced Raoul in it. You've made me question if I even truly loved him or if I was just retreating to a familiar face when uncertain. And I still care about Raoul, of course, but not with the same passion as before. My passion for you, though, grows every minute that I'm near you. When you're working, I try to do as much as possible and hope that the time passes quickly before your return." She paused to allow Erik a moment to grasp everything she was saying. "So you must understand that it is not as simple as you imply. I cannot return to Paris nor to Raoul simply because I don't wish to."

Erik's gaze held hers for a long moment as he gauged to see if she was telling the truth. "You're serious," he said after a moment's hesitation. "You're telling the truth."

"Of course I am," Christine replied, rising to her feet. "Besides, I had plenty of opportunities before now to escape. Why would I wait so long?" She gently touched his unmarred cheek, stroking it with her thumb. "So relax, Erik. Let go of this fear that one day you'll wake up to find me gone. It isn't going to happen. I swear that to you."

Leaning into the caress, Erik closed his eyes for a moment and laid his hand on top of hers. His entire body completely relaxed. Although Christine knew it would take time to heal his wounds, she knew that they would eventually all be healed. They just needed to take it one step at a time. "Christine," Erik whispered brokenly, and she felt something wet touch her hand.

"Come, you must stop crying," she stated, pulling her hand back. She softly placed her hand underneath his chin and forced him to meet her eyes. "You need to sleep. Today has been too long for the both of us. Come," she beckoned before heading towards the stairs. Erik took a moment to get his mask before following her up the stairs and into their bedroom. As he laid down next to her, she said, "And I will have you know that you are cleaning up that disaster downstairs. I refuse."

This made Erik smile, and he said, "Of course."

Christine laid down on her bed and was surprised when she felt Erik's head on her stomach. An arm wrapped around her, and she shifted as he pulled her closer. Smiling softly, she placed a hand on his head and closed her eyes. Very quietly, she sang, "No more talk of leaving. Forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you. Let me be your freedom. Let me dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you – to guard you and to guide you." She hummed the chorus as she felt his breathing become slower. Once she knew he was asleep, Christine closed her eyes and drifted off as well.


	9. Wednesday, May 31, 1871

**Author's Note: **Thanks once more for being so patient with the next posting. And special thanks to the following for the reviews from last chapter: **luvnikki7, GracefulWolvesInTheNight, cicadawing, Alana Fox, PhantomFan01, nibblesfan, login password, EmiliyD,** and **ladysimone3. **Enjoy, and I hope that I will hear your opinions and reactions to this chapter!

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"The final chair should arrive midday tomorrow," Erik informed Christine just as she took the last bite of her food.

She swallowed quickly and jokingly said, "Lord knows it is about time! Did you order a chair spun out of gold?"

"And embroidered with diamonds," Erik added, catching her jesting tone. "Nothing but the best for my _prima donna_."

Laughing, Christine inquired, "Could you just imagine the look on Madame Bouchard's face? She would absolutely die of envy if she saw such a chair."

"I disagree. She would most likely demand for Monsieur Bouchard to buy her a carriage made of gold and diamonds to prove a point," Erik stated, chuckling a bit. "So they could arrive in Paris properly and not have anyone doubt their station."

Christine smiled as she heard this. "I doubt she has any problem now with people misinterpreting her position in society," she commented. "Although I doubt that would actually stop her from having her golden-diamond carriage."

After a long moment, Erik asked, "Would you like a golden chair for the parlor room?"

Surprised, Christine scoffed as she heard this. "No, of course not. First of all, it would look extremely tacky. Second of all, it's not like we have that kind of money to throw around on pointless possessions." As she said this, Christine rose to her feet and collected the plates to wash.

"What if I told you we did?" Erik inquired.

Christine set the plates down in the sink and looked back at him. "What do you mean?" she asked guardedly. Surely he couldn't mean what she believed him to.

"We have that kind of money, Christine," Erik told her.

Examining him very closely, she questioned, "How much exactly?"

"I probably have a little less than 250,000 francs in the bank right now," he stated.

At hearing the number, Christine felt instantly faint. She gaped at him. "How could you possibly have that much money?" she asked incredulously.

"Every month for three years, Monsieur Lefevre paid me 20,000 francs a month so I would remain in the shadows and not disrupt my opera house," Erik explained. "If you do the math, I would have wound up with 270,000 francs had I not spent a single coin. Naturally, though, I had to buy supplies and food during this time, and even later your dresses and this house added new expenses. And let us not forget the furniture I had to replace."

Christine had had no idea just how rich Erik was. Of course, that hadn't mattered to her at all, but she still found it shocking. An amusing thought crossed her mind, and her lips twitched as she jested, "You mean to tell me that you're in possession of all this money, and yet we cannot hire a couple servants to work around the house?"

Erik hesitated for a moment as he figured out if she was teasing or not. At seeing her fighting a smile, though, he smirked, "Did you not already tell me that you appreciated not having servants? You would have never learned how to cook nor clean properly. Even now, you could use some more practice on cooking. The chicken was a bit dry, my dear."

"That was salmon," she answered bluntly, not sure of how else to respond. His newfound audacity had a tendency to take her off guard. Picking up a knife, she pointed it at him. "I dare you to criticize my cooking one more time."

Erik rose to his feet and stood straight. Christine had forgotten just how intimidating he could be when he wanted to be. Staggering back, she headed towards the door. "Don't do something you might regret!" she said.

"Something _I_ might regret, my dear?" he pressed, still moving towards her.

Knowing she had no chance of fighting him off, Christine threw the knife onto the counter and made a break for the stairs. Erik was hot on her heels, but she was able to ascend the stairs faster than he could. Rushing into her bedroom, she turned to slam the door and lock it only to find Erik in the doorway. She let out a delighted squeal as he captured her in his arms. Half-heartedly, she tried to escape only to find him too strong. She smiled and looked up at him. Suddenly, instinct possessed her, and she rocked up on her heels. Her lips very gently caressed his as she eased him into a kiss. Slowly, she raised her hands to cup his face. Their lips remained locked, and Christine felt a rush of urgency. Flushing, she pulled back and gazed deeply into Erik's eyes. Her passion was palpable at that moment, and she wanted nothing more than to drag him over to the bed and for them to embrace each other. Apparently, her expression must have conveyed her feelings, because Erik harshly pulled away from her.

"What's wrong?" she inquired, startled by his reaction.

He looked away from her. "The dining room needs to be cleaned," he stated, avoiding her question.

"Why won't you touch me?" Christine asked as he headed out the door.

This caused Erik to jerk to a stop. Turing a bit, Erik replied, "What do you mean? We were just touching a moment ago."

"You know that's not what I mean," Christine responded, walking over to him. "You haven't embraced me as a husband would since our wedding night. Am I undesirable to you?"

Erik laughed out, "Undesirable?" At seeing her hurt expression, though, he quickly became serious. He turned towards her and held her gaze. "I have desired you every night since, but I have controlled myself. I could not bear it if I were to force myself upon you. Besides which…" His voice trailed, and he broke eye contact once again.

"What is it?" Christine pressed, wanting to know what it was that made her husband so uncomfortable that he could not even talk to her about it.

"What if," he began before hesitating. "What if our child is like me?"

Christine felt a wave of realization rush over her, and her heart dropped as she realized what a huge weight he must have been carrying. Gently, she caressed his unmarred cheek. Then she slowly lifted her other hand and very carefully removed his mask. As he felt it removed, Erik looked away from her. Christine lifted her hand and caressed that cheek as well, trying her best to ignore the sand-paper like texture his skin had. After a long moment, Erik eventually turned his gaze back to her.

"Erik, was your mother like this?" she inquired, gently stroking that cheek.

Erik responded, "No."

"And your father?" she pressed.

Once again, he answered, "No."

"Then what happened to you was a cruel twist of fate. It was a fluke, Erik, and it is likely that our children would not be scarred as well," she said soothingly.

He shook his head gently. "How could I even risk it?" he asked desperately. "How could I subject our children to such a life? The people here only accept me because they think I got this from being a hero. If they knew I was born with it, I would be shunned once more! I will not bring children into this world only for them to suffer the same fate as I."

"Your _fate_, Erik?" Christine echoed. "Look around you! You own a mansion, live in a town where you're respected, and have a loyal wife by your side. Now, you might have taken a long detour to arrive at this point, but many people would envy the life you have right now." He didn't seem convinced, though, so Christine went a step further and continued, "Besides, they'll have something you should have had as a child." She paused long enough for him to make eye contact with her once more. "A loving family – a mother and father who love their children no matter what they might look like."

Trembling, Erik turned away from Christine. Just as she was about to further comfort him, she heard a loud knocking on the door. Erik went rigid and cursed under his breath. "I completely forgot," he muttered to himself.

"Who is that?" Christine pressed.

Erik answered, "Monsieur Bouchard wanted me to meet a merchant who might be able to help me buy the necessary materials at a better price. They were planning to come over as soon as they made it back from Paris. I completely forgot about the meeting until just now."

Suddenly, they heard a sound pounding on the door. "You answer it," Christine stated. "I'll get the kitchen fixed up and make some tea."

With that, both descended the stairs. Christine made it into the kitchen before Erik opened the door. Immediately, she could hear the boisterous voices of the Bouchards as soon as the door opened. Both Monsieur and Madame Bouchard had felt the need to come over. As Monsieur Bouchard and Erik were going through their proper introductions, Christine could hear Madame Bouchard call out, "Madame de Rouen!"

Biting back a groan, Christine forced a smile to her face as Madame Bouchard stood in the doorway. "Good evening, Madame Bouchard," Christine greeted as she started to heat the water. "I hope you pardon my absence. Unfortunately, Erik forgot to inform me that we would be having company tonight, so the house is in no state for company."

"That's quite alright. I brought over Yvonne to help about the house," she informed Christine as a maid trailed into the room. Without saying a word, the maid moved over to the sink in order to start cleaning the dishes. " I figured after a long day of work that you need to rest your feet. Why haven't you or Monsieur Bouchard invested in servants yet? They're quite helpful, you know. I could even help you find the perfect fit!"

Christine smiled softly and responded, "I thank you for your offer, but Erik and I are quite content with our lives. If I had servants, I'm afraid I wouldn't know what to do with myself during the day."

"Well," Madame Bouchard huffed. "If you ever decide to hire someone, please come to me. I know exactly what to look for in a servant."

Nodding, Christine responded, "Thank you again, and I will."

"Now how about you come with me and put up your feet for a while?" Madame Bouchard suggested. "I think Yvonne can handle the dishes and tea."

Christine said, "Of course." She turned back to the maid and added, "If you need anything, though, just come ask me. Understand?"

"Yes, Madame de Rouen," Yvonne answered before returning to the task at hand.

Heading into the parlor, Madame Bouchard and Christine found that almost all the seats were taken. The men rose to greet them, and Christine curtsied since she had not technically greeted them yet. One spot was left open between Monsieur Bouchard and the merchant. Glancing, Christine saw Erik motion for her to come over to him. She obeyed only to have him turn her around and tug on her. Before she knew it, she was sitting on his leg. "My wife, Christine," Erik stated.

It was no longer strange for her to hear those words coming from his mouth. She smiled and said, "Pleased to meet you, monsieur."

"Monsieur Alfred Clément," he greeted her, smiling softly. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Madame Bouchard cut in, "Alfred and I have known each other a long time now." Everyone politely turned their attention towards her, and she seemed to simmer down a bit once all eyes were on her. "The Clément family and my family share quite a history together, you see. We have got to be two of the oldest families in Paris, I swear to it!"

"We ran into him by coincidence," Monsieur Bouchard added. "And I realized just how pivotal he might be for this project. I've heard you've been having some problems with the old merchants."

Erik pressed his lips together. "Unfortunately," he conceded. "They believe they have a monopoly over the materials, so they can charge me outrageous prices. At their rates, I won't be able to complete the project at all."

"And that, good sir, is where I come in," Monsieur Clément stated. "I am a business man, and I guarantee you that I can give you the materials you need for a lesser price. This will either whip your merchants back into shape or give you the materials you need at a reasonable price."

Erik tried to suppress a smile only to fail. "I'm grateful for this opportunity," he informed the merchant. "I will inform the merchants tomorrow that I am no longer in need of their goods. Would you like to accompany me into town tomorrow? It would most likely be best for you to see the materials we are currently using and how far we've progressed on the project."

"But of course!" Monsieur Clément said. "And you must join us as well, Isaac."

Nodding, Monsieur Bouchard responded, "I would be delighted to accompany you both."

"It's settled then," Erik declared. "Tomorrow at eight is when I leave for town."

Monsieur Bouchard said, "We'll be in front of your estate with the carriage at that time."

Suddenly, the maid appeared in the doorway. "Madame?" she called out. Instinctively, both Christine and Madame Bouchard turned to acknowledge her. "Madame de Rouen, where might I find your china? The tea is prepared."

"I should help her," Christine stated, standing up. She headed for the kitchen and was only relieved once she made it inside. Relaxing, she headed over to the far right cabinet and opened it.

The maid said, "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, madam."

"Do not worry about it," Christine said, laughter hinted in her voice. "I enjoy the reprieve, no matter how short it might be. Please understand; I'm still not used to being considered upper class. It is sometimes a tenuous position to be in." She pulled down the tray and glasses. As the maid searched for the sugar and honey, Christine poured the tea into the proper teapot and set the appropriate amount of glasses on the tray. By then, the maid had found the honey and sugar and had placed them in the proper containers for guests. When the maid went to grab the tray, though, Christine objected. "If you don't mind, I would prefer to handle this. I am still the hostess, after all."

"Of course, my lady," the maid said, looking down and curtsying. "I hope I did not offend."

Christine smiled. "Not at all," she responded, grabbing the plate. "And I thank you for washing the dishes. I had not been looking forward to that at all."

"It was a pleasure, madam," the maid told her, although Christine doubted that. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Pausing a moment, Christine gave it a long thought. "Not that I recall. However, if you see something then feel free to handle it," she finally answered. Without another word, she picked up the tray and headed back into the parlor room. "Tea?" she offered.

"Please," Monsieur Bouchard stated.

Setting the tray onto the table, Christine poured the first glass. "Honey or sugar?" she inquired.

"Two lumps of sugar will do," he told her before turning back to the conversation. "Paris was quite magnificent, although I do find the state of the Opera Populaire to be quite a shame. It's a shadow of its former glory, and I seriously doubt anyone will ever be able to truly rebuild it."

Christine handed Monsieur Bouchard his cup, and he nodded his thanks to her. As she poured the second one, Monsieur Clément added, "There are still patrols circling outside of it, as if waiting for that opera ghost and his chorus girl to return. I cannot even imagine the amount of money the _Vicomte _de Chagny had to pay in order to keep them posted. It's a lost cause, though, if you ask me. The ghost and that girl are probably in Sicily by now. He won't be seeing her ever again."

"It's quite a shame, though," Madame Bouchard said. "To think that he might actually die without ever knowing what happened to his fiancée."

As Christine heard this, the teapot slipped from her hands and clattered onto the tray. "I apologize," she said hurriedly, trying to cover up her blunder. "It just slipped from my hands. Honey or sugar, Monsieur Clément?"

"Just a bit of honey will suffice," Monsieur Clément answered.

Christine tried her hardest to suppress her curiosity, but she found herself unable to. Not looking up from the tray in front of her, she inquired, "Has something happened to the _Vicomte_ de Chagny?"

"You haven't heard?" Madame Bouchard practically exclaimed. After a moment's pause, though, she continued, "Well, I mean, of course not. You haven't been to Paris in quite some time, and I am afraid that most people up here do not understand the importance!"

Handing Monsieur Clément his tea, Christine went to pour the next cup. By then, though, her hands were shaking so hard she had difficulty doing so. The anticipation was all but killing her. "I have not heard a single word," she stated, hoping this would prompt Madame Bouchard to continue.

It did. "Well," Madame Bouchard started. "The _Vicomte_ Raoul de Chagny has become bedridden. The doctors are unable to help him or ease his pain. No one knows what he is dying from. Besides doctors and servants, no one is allowed to visit him at his estate, and it is said that he does not have a lot of time left. Rumor has it that he's dying of a broken heart, unable to go on without his fiancée at his side. Rather unfortunate, is it not?"

"Very," Erik stated, his tone giving away nothing.

Quietly, Christine served Madame Bouchard and Erik before pouring a glass for herself. She checked out of the conversation as she mulled over what Madame Bouchard had told her. Raoul was dying, and her heart ached for him. After all, they had known each other since they were children. Although she didn't believe he was actually dying of a broken heart, she couldn't help but feel somehow responsible for his current state. She had to go to him, though, and let him know that she was happy and living a marvelous life. He needed to know that he hadn't let her down at all by not finding her. Not for just his sake, but for her as well. She would always feel guilty if she didn't tell him.

The rest of the night passed by slowly for Christine. She found herself unable to sit still for very long, and Erik wound up wrapping an arm around her in order to keep her on his knee as the Bouchards and Monsieur Clément swapped stories with Erik. Finally, Madame Bouchard declared it late and rose to leave. The men followed her lead, each thanking Erik and Christine for the hospitality. With pleasant smiles and nods of acknowledgement, they left the home with their butler, whom had waited outside with the carriage, and their maid.

Erik closed the door behind him. Christine opened her mouth as soon as it was shut, but Erik spoke before she had the chance. "No," he said.

"Please, Erik, I have to go," she pleaded. "He's dying, and he needs to know that I'm happy before his time is up. I can't imagine how horrible it would be if he didn't know."

He turned to face her, and she could see the fierce determination in his eyes. "He isn't dying, Christine. That man is a master schemer. This is nothing more than a trap to get you back!" he exclaimed.

"Raoul wouldn't do something like that," she replied earnestly. "He has morals. He would never use the excuse of death in order to find me."

Erik pressed his lips together as he heard this. "You heard him yourself. He said he would do _anything_ to get you back. He's willing to stoop to any level, Christine," he explained.

"I don't believe you," she murmured defiantly. "He wouldn't. I know him. He knows what it would do to me to think that he was dying. He wouldn't put me through that just because there is a chance that I would return to Paris."

Shaking his head, Erik declared, "I forbid it."

"I'm going either way," Christine informed him matter-of-factly. She saw the flash in his eyes, and she continued, "You cannot keep me here, Erik. You know that. I'm going with or without your permission. I'd just rather have it than not."

Erik clenched his fists and tightened his jaw. Christine could tell he was fighting back his anger – that he was trying to keep from having another outburst. "Fine then. Go," he said. "For all I know, you could know about his plan and be a part of it."

At that very moment, Christine shocked even herself. She lashed out at Erik, slapping him across the face. Her hand stung when all was said and done, but she didn't care. Tears in her eyes, she felt too angry and betrayed to care about what hurt besides her heart. "You take back those words this very instant! I have been nothing but loyal to you since the point of no return. Never once have I ran from you nor have I tried to. I gave up my freedom and home for you, and I will not have my good name slandered by my own husband because of his insecurities. Do you understand me?"

Erik appeared legitimately shocked by her reaction. After a moment of silence, he answered, "I apologize for what I said. You are quite right, of course, and it was unfair and unjust of me to slander you in such a way. You may go with my blessing, but I have two conditions."

"And they are?" Christine pressed, completely prepared to refuse them at any moment.

"My first condition is that you are back within the week," Erik stated.

Christine responded, "I cannot promise you that. Between traveling and how his condition is, I don't think I could manage in less than a week." At seeing Erik so displeased by her response, Christine went on, "But I will promise you that I will be back in exactly a week at the latest."

"Fine, a week," Erik conceded. "My second condition is that you take a carriage there and back. I will not have you traveling these roads by yourself. I will ensure your ride to Paris tomorrow morning so you may leave tomorrow evening latest, but you will have to ensure your ride back for I will not know when your trip will end for sure."

"Agreed," Christine said. "I will leave tomorrow then?"

Erik nodded. "The sooner you leave, the sooner you will return," he reasoned.

As Christine looked at him, she could tell he was still uncomfortable about letting her go. Gently, she touched his arm and said, "You have nothing to fear, you know. Even if this is a trap, I'm sure Raoul would let me go once I explained everything to him. I'll be back here before you know it."

"Christine," Erik whispered, turning towards her.

She could see the sadness and pain in his eyes, and her heart broke as she realized just how fragile he was. He had yet to truly understand that she could not leave him – but she couldn't understand why. Hadn't she made that clear with every moment she had ever stayed with him? With every night that she slept peacefully by his side? Suddenly, a thought struck her. She had never told him, had she? She had never said it to him although he had told her. Lifting her hand, Christine gently caressed his face. "Erik, I love you," she said.

Abruptly, Erik roughly grabbed her and pulled her into a firm embrace. She gently wrapped her arms around him as well and just let him hold her. Minutes ticked by slowly as they stayed like that, clinging to one another. Finally, Erik pulled back. "Please, say it again," he whispered.

"I love you," Christine reiterated. He trembled slightly as he heard this, and she realized that this very moment might be the first time he had ever heard someone say that to him. "And that's never going to change. Now let's go to bed. Both of us have a long week ahead of us."


	10. Sunday, June 11, 1871

**Author's Note: **Thank you everyone for the lovely reviews and for making it this far with me. This will be the last chapter. I know it might seem a bit abrupt (I had originally planned on writing two chapters), but I have just lost the motivation to finish this story. (That's the fickle thing about when I write a story. If it becomes too long, I get bored.) I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Thank you for every review, every moment of encouragement, and for all the patience.

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Tonight was the night. Christine glanced around the bedroom she had been trapped in the last nine days to double-check she had everything she needed. Once her check was complete, she sat on the edge of her bed and shook her head. She could not believe what had happened over the last nine days… how much everything had changed Her arrival at the de Chagny estate had been on schedule, but everything afterwards did not go to plan. Closing her eyes, Christine allowed herself to drift back into those dream-like memories.

_She emerged from the carriage. The estate was just as beautiful as it had always been – a cobblestone drive leading up to the house; large, regal gates separating the estate from the main road; a mansion worthy of the de Chagny family. Servants bustled about here and there, each ignoring the carriage as it pulled up. Quickly, the valet approached and opened the door. His eyes widened as he looked in._

"_Mademoiselle Daaé!" he exclaimed in surprise._

_Christine did not feel the need to correct him. "Please, take me to Raoul," she said, holding out her hand. The valet nodded and escorted her into the house. Immediately, several servants were whispering amongst one another. Christine shifted uncomfortably and turned back to the valet. "Where is Raoul? Is he still with us? Am I too late?"_

"_My dear little Lotte," a familiar voice called out warmly. Smiling widely, Raoul stood on the stairs. "I knew you would come for me. I knew that you would come if I was on the brink of death."_

_Startled, Christine felt her heart sink into her stomach as she realized that Erik had been right. Everything had been a ruse in order to get Christine back. "Oh, no. No, no," she whispered to herself, feeling faint. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground as her emotions overrode everything – utter joy, heartbreaking betrayal, anger, frustration, sadness. They all mixed together in a turbulent fashion._

_Raoul was almost immediately by her side. "I'm sorry for the terrible shock, Lotte, but I had no other option. I could not leave you in the hands of that monster," he explained softly. He gently brushed her hair back. "But you're here now. You're safe. You'll never have to worry about him again."_

"_No, Raoul," she responded, looking up at him. "I have to go. I need to leave right now."_

_Anger flashed in his eyes. "Go where?" he demanded as he grabbed her arm. "Surely you are not thinking of going back to him."_

"_Raoul, I must," she responded urgently. "He's a different man, and I love him." Raoul glowered as he heard her say this. "I know you don't understand, but I ask only that you listen to me. He's different now; he's charming and endearing and is constantly worrying about my happiness. The only reason he let me come here was because he knew how important it was to me to see you before you died!"_

_Shaking his head, Raoul snarled, "You'll still under the spell of that monster!"_

"_That monster is my husband!" Christine retorted._

_Raoul froze in midstride, and his eyes locked onto hers. "What?" he inquired._

"_I am no longer Mademoiselle Daaé. I am Madame de Rouen," she informed him._

_Very softly, Raoul trembled as he heard the news. "That doesn't matter now, Christine. You're here. You're will me, as it always should have been. We can still be together. After all, no one here knows about it."_

"_Raoul, you just don't understand," Christine murmured. "I want to return to him. To my husband. I need to."_

_A long moment of silence passed between the two of them. "You're still under his spell," Raoul suddenly declared. "That must be it. You have always been weak-minded, after all."_

"_Weak-minded?" Christine echoed, anger rushing to the forefront of her mind. She would not tolerate such disrespect. "I gave up my freedom for your life, Raoul! I believed I would never have a chance to see you again. To be in Paris once more. To have a nice chat with Madame Giry and Meg. And I was willing to give everything up in order to guarantee your future. So that maybe someday you could meet another woman, fall in love, and have the family you deserve. And you believe me to be weak-minded?"_

_However, Raoul paid her no heed. Instead, he had ordered two butlers in. "Escort her to one of the suites and lock her in. I'm afraid she's ill."_

"_I am not ill," Christine snapped as each butler grabbed an arm. She struggled against them. "Raoul, you cannot do this. Please!" she begged, hoping to play on his humanity. If he was still her Raoul, he would never put her through something like this. In return, though, she got no reaction. Heart sinking, Christine realized just how much Raoul had changed. She did not know him anymore. He was not the same man she had cared about. Suddenly, Christine felt her heart sink even deeper. If she did not return within the week, Erik was bound to think she had left him. For the first time in a long time, she was truly without a friend._

Suddenly, Christine heard the lock click. She looked up, half-expecting for someone to come in. When no one did, she knew that it was time. She picked up a small knapsack; she had packed it herself for this very moment. Very quietly, Christine opened her door. She came face-to-face with Julie, the personal maid assigned to Christine by Raoul, and she smiled. Over the last nine days, Christine had carefully forged a relationship between herself and this maid, a bride-to-be. She closed the door behind her, and Julie quickly locked it again. Slipping the key back into her apron pocket, Julie gave Christine a brief hug before waving goodbye and walking down the hall. The success of her escape now rested solely on Christine.

Christine tip-toed down the hall and glanced around the corner. It was almost two in the morning, so she knew that most of the staff would be sound asleep. Her eyes had long adjusted to the darkness, and she could see where the staircase was. Quietly, she crept down the staircase. Her heart wretched in her chest as she heard one of the stairs creak. It might as well have echoed throughout the entire mansion. Freezing, Christine held her breath as she listened for any movement. She heard only silence and eventually decided to continue forward. After a couple more stairs, she reached the first floor. Her heart was in her throat as she started across the room. Suddenly, she heard a door burst open. She quickly pulled back and pressed herself into the shadows underneath the stairs. Holding a candle, a maid hurried up the stairs, all the while muttering to herself about the ridiculous wakeup calls in the middle of the night. Once the maid was gone and Christine's heart left her throat, she started towards the door again. She reached it and slowly opened it. Slipping out, Christine closed the door silently behind her and turned to face the driveway.

Out of everything, this part would be the hardest of her escape. The de Chagny's watchman left his post for fifteen minutes every night in order to spend some alone time with a milkmaid. With her setback, Christine knew that she would have to rush down the drive in order to get out of sight before the watchman returned. She took in two deep breaths before she hurried down the drive, not planning on letting anything stop her. However, she stopped dead in her tracks as she heard the thundering of hooves. Her mind whirled with the new bit of auditory information. Who would possibly be out for a ride so late? How was she going to explain herself if she got caught? This was her only chance to leave.

Keeping her head low, Christine kept walking forward and moved to the side of the drive. Maybe whoever it was would ignore her. Assume she was a servant or a peasant. The hope was far-fetched, but there was nothing else she could do. The hoof beats got closer to her and started to slow down. Very softly, a familiar voice called out, "Christine?"

Her heart leapt as she recognized the baritone voice. Looking up, Christine exclaimed, "Erik?" He looked down at her apprehensively, but Christine could hardly contain her excitement. "What are you doing here?" she asked before realizing how she must have sounded. "No, no. I'm so happy to see you. You must understand, I wanted to return, but Raoul-" She was cut off as Erik swooped down and kissed her. Instinctively, Christine rocked onto her tip-toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. She trembled slightly, wanting to be closer to him. For the last nine days, Erik and her escape have been the only two things on her mind. Now, she was surrounded by the one man she loved with freedom just a few meters away.

And then she felt her world begin to crash down around her. Alarm bells began to sound, and shouting could be heard throughout the estate. Breaking the kiss, Erik looked up in alarm at the manor. He quickly reached down and grabbed Christine's arm. "Get on," he ordered as he slipped his foot out of the stirrup. As quickly as she could, Christine swung herself up onto the horse. The saddle horn pressed painfully into her side, and she was harshly jostled as Diable bolted forward. A strong arm wrapped around her, and Christine quickly locked her arms around Erik's waist. With every step Diable took, Christine felt herself slipping down. She managed to reposition herself three times, and she grimaced as she felt the saddle horn dig into her side. Suddenly, Diable bucked underneath them. Christine felt a jolt of adrenaline as she slipped from the saddle. Only by clinging to Erik did she manage not to fall off the horse. Tugging on the reigns, Erik brought Diable to a halt as he pulled Christine back onto the saddle.

"I'm alright," she murmured to him as Erik checked her for any injuries. Looking around, she noticed they were in the middle of a road. Only the moonlight lit their path. Diable was trying to catch his breath, obvious by the way his sides were puffing in and out. But they were alone on this road, the de Chagny estate out of sight. Christine kissed Erik again, trying to convince herself that this was not a dream. He was actually in front of her. Pulling back, Christine rested her head on his chest. "I missed you so much," she whispered.

Erik wrapped his arms around her and held her. Finally, he said, "You never have to miss me again, my dear. Please don't leave me again."

"Never," she breathed out, hugging him back.

Their reunion was cut short, however, as they heard someone approaching. Christine glanced back to find a white horse several meters away. Quickly, Erik grabbed his reigns and went to coax Diable into a canter only for the horse to refuse. He cursed under his breath before dismounting and drawing his sword. Horror iced Christine's blood as she understood Erik's intentions. Just as she went to object, the figure was close enough for her to recognize. Her heart sank further as Raoul dismounted and drew his sword in one sharp movement.

"Christine!" he called out. "It's alright. I'll save you."

Gaping at him, Christine responded, "I do not require saving, Raoul. I'm going home with my husband."

"Stop calling this monster your husband!" Raoul snarled.

Erik stiffened as he heard this, but Christine quickly retorted, "He _is_ my husband."

"No, he isn't," Raoul replied. "Because he married you under the surname of de Rouen. But that is not your birth name, is it?"

Tense, Erik said, "It was not given a surname at birth."

"But we both know that is not quite true," Raoul responded mockingly. "So you're legally free, Christine. You are no more his wife than you are mine."

Christine shook her head. It was unbelievable just how much Raoul had changed in the months she had been away. "You fail to understand me," she said. "You have never truly understood me. You always second guessed me. You always made the final decision, no matter how I felt. And now you stand before me, still not comprehending what it is I'm telling you." She paused a moment and locked eyes with Raoul. "I did not marry the name Erik de Rouen. I married the man behind the name. Before the eyes of God, I consummated this marriage. In the eyes of God, I am bound to this man until my death. God knows no names, after all; He just knows the soul."

"I had hoped you would free yourself from his spell," Raoul stated. His tone reflected that he had ignored everything she had just told him. "It's clear, though, that you won't as long as he's on this planet." With that, Raoul lowered his eyes to Erik. "So be it."

Erik raised his sword higher. "I will not lose this time," he stated. "You might be younger and quicker, but I am more experienced and stronger."

Christine gasped as she watched metal smash against metal. Raoul swiftly struck at Erik's head only for Erik to block. After blocking, Erik quickly lashed out, striking at Raoul's side. Raoul dodged but lost his footing in the process and staggered backwards. Quickly, Erik struck out again only for Raoul to parry the blow. Erik did not miss a beat but struck at Raoul's open side. Raoul's sword met Erik's before it could touch his body. With a flick of his wrist, Raoul forced Erik's blade towards the ground. Erik swept his cape up as she spun around. The cape obscured Raoul's vision and forced him to hesitate. With his extra time, Erik brought his sword back up in the defending position. Raoul swiped at him a second and third time, his movements becoming more frantic with every second. One after another, Erik parried each blow. Then he brought his sword back and thrust it at Raoul, forcing the younger man to leap back. As he did so, Erik struck out and hit Raoul's blade with such a force that Raoul dropped it in surprise. Horror flashed across his face as he looked up to find Erik's blade just centimeters from his heart.

"Erik!" Christine called out. Raoul might have become a different man, but that did not mean that she wanted him to die.

Raising one hand, Erik silenced her. "The last time we fought, you spared me because Christine asked you to. This time, I am sparing you because I know it is the right thing to do," he explained softly. Raoul visibly relaxed as he heard this. "However, do not mistake this as weakness. If you come after us again, I will kill you. Am I understood?" Raoul was clearly struggling with his emotions. Tears pooled in his eyes, and he glanced back at Christine for but a moment. Erik pressed his blade harder into Raoul's chest. "Your answer?" he pressed.

"Very well," Raoul finally replied. He slumped forward slightly in defeat. "Take her and leave me."

Christine's heart was breaking as she saw Raoul fall apart. As Erik sheathed his sword, she said, "Raoul, do not cry. The real reason behind me coming was to tell you that I was happy. And I am. You will find another. And she'll be just as beautiful and kind as you believe me to be. You'll have children with her, and you will eventually forget about me."

"Not possible," Raoul informed her as Erik grabbed the reigns.

Erik hoisted himself up onto Diable. Situating herself again, Christine looked over at Raoul and smiled softly. "It is possible," she told him. "I know from experience. When it happens, Raoul, send Madame Giry a message. I would love to hear all about her."

Without saying a word, Erik dug his heels into Diable and wrapped an arm around Christine. Christine never even said goodbye. At first, she was upset with Erik for cutting their conversation short. As she thought about it, however, she realized that a goodbye would have been inappropriate. She sincerely hoped that she would hear from Raoul again. That someday he would be able to come over with his wife, and they would be able to sit around a fire and chat as friends. Maybe she was being naïve, but that did not stop her from hoping.

"Christine," Erik murmured, catching her attention.

Christine looked up to see him staring down at her for a long moment before looking back up at the road. When he remained silent, she asked, "What is it?"

"I just cannot believe it," he stated matter-of-factly, not daring to look down at her. "I just cannot believe that you're still here. You're in my arms."

Christine kissed him gently on the cheek. "Of course I am," she murmured. "I thought I told you already: I love you, Erik de Rouen."

"I love you, too," he said, pulling Diable to a stop. Quickly, he pulled her into a passionate, hungry kiss. Christine pressed herself against him and deepened the kiss. Erik slowly pulled back and gazed deep into her eyes. "This week without you was the hardest experience in my entire life. The manor felt so empty without you there. I was alone again – truly alone. All I could do was wait for your return. And when you didn't, I feared the worst." Holding her closer, Erik said, "It gave me time to think about what my life would be without you in it, and I came to a decision."

He hesitated, making Christine gently push, "What, my angel?"

Erik's eyes lit up as he heard the nickname. "I want to have a family with you," he told her quietly. "I am no longer going to hide my feelings from you, and I am no longer going to restrain myself because of my insecurities. If I do something you don't like, I want you to tell me."

"Of course, of course!" Christine exclaimed before laughing in giddiness.

And suddenly, she was grateful. She was thankful that her father had passed. She was glad that Erik had taken her that night – the point of no return. She was relieved that she had chosen Raoul. And she was so appreciative that she had been given the opportunity to see Erik for who he was, not as the monster everyone assumed him to be. Resting her head against his chest, Christine closed her eyes and smiled. Finally, she and Erik had their fairytale ending.


End file.
